tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273855952024-03-14T11:49:06.858-07:00There is nothing wrong in the whole wide world.Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.comBlogger335125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-88444302368007232892013-03-18T14:55:00.001-07:002013-03-18T14:55:02.805-07:00Jason Molina and the missing superheroes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
[The following is cross-posted with my academic group-blog, <a href="http://littlegroupistaken.wordpress.com/">little group is taken</a>. I probably ought to have been cross-posting for the past little while, but c'est la vie. I will in the future, at least for substantive posts.]<br />
—<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I </span>don't claim an exhaustive knowledge of superheroes, or even of a subset of them. I know only the pop heroes—Batman, Superman, Spiderman, the X-men, basically whoever's had a tv show or movie made about them. The pop heroes tell us something about ourselves, I think, tell us about our aspirations. They also tell us about who, and what, we erase about ourselves.<br />
<br />
This is a post inspired,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=27385595" name="fnr1"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=27385595#fn1" style="text-decoration: none;">1</a></sup> in part, by the death of Jason Molina. Molina was the creative spirit behind Songs:Ohia and the Magnolia Electric Company, projects which I can only compare to the sense of watching the stars and understanding—being terrified, really—of your own insignificance; but having someone else's hand to grip while you do it.<br />
<br />
The music, the songs, provide simply the knowledge that, even if you can only go through your darkness alone, you are not the only one.<br />
<br />
Is that solidarity? Of a sense, I suppose.<br />
<br />
But superheroes. Molina's song "Farewell Transmission" goes like this:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeO-SuCXmstUud1XEBKqFmwZUJH32erUSpRyk4z3BicofXmE0DP-NmzAJnMl06UiCUHZktUfnqqxovIaeXq63E-54cxN6Ok-eEpMOBj1ANSlK2pULuujUpJAjExflbKahfLBXS/s1600/jmolina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeO-SuCXmstUud1XEBKqFmwZUJH32erUSpRyk4z3BicofXmE0DP-NmzAJnMl06UiCUHZktUfnqqxovIaeXq63E-54cxN6Ok-eEpMOBj1ANSlK2pULuujUpJAjExflbKahfLBXS/s320/jmolina.jpg" /></a><br />
"I feel his ghost breathing down my back<br />
I will try and know whatever I try,<br />
I will be gone but not forever<br />
I will try and know whatever I try,<br />
I will be gone but not forever<br />
The real truth about it is<br />
no one gets it right<br />
The real truth about it is<br />
we're all supposed to try<br />
There ain't no end to the sands<br />
I've been trying to cross<br />
The real truth about it is<br />
my kind of life's no better off<br />
if it's got the maps or if it's lost"<br />
<br />
and this—this and bizarrely this—is what made me think of superheroes, of the superheroes I don't know exist. Specifically I think of superhero motivation: Superman is the embodiment of All That Is Good; Batman is driven by the misattribution of vengeance onto the "criminal class"; Spiderman is "just like us" and has to learn responsibility; Wolverine of the X-men is gruff, and reluctant, but fights for right when it counts.<br />
<br />
I could go on. "Farewell Transmission," I think, presents an emotional logic missing, or erased. It is Superman who does not marry Lois Lane, because he wants to be loved for being Clark Kent; it is Bruce Wayne driven not by revenge but by the oceans of love that remain dry within him.<br />
<br />
These heroes, my putative Clark Kents and Bruce Waynes, are heroes to earn the love of others; but that love is a love for them exclusive of what they do. They don't feel loved for who they are, but the paradox is that in helping others they become all the more loved for what they do.<br />
<br />
These heroes do good to contain the tragedy within themselves.<br />
<br />
Even if these heroes exist in the comics—and they very well may—she is not present equally in wider cultural life. They don't make for a good movie, but the struggle is completely internal. But it solves a different problem: why Batman never gets bored of being Batman. They do; but quitting makes the problem worse, not better. There is no need for goodness to shine through, just the hand in the dark.<br />
<br />
I don't want to suggest that Jason Molina was a superhero, or like one. I never knew him. I hazily recall meeting him once many years ago, and mostly this memory is that he wasn't so slight as I had expected. He died, reportedly of organ failure.<br />
<br />
In "The Big Game is Every Night," the lyrics<br />
<br />
"Let it be me helping<br />
Let it be me honestly<br />
Let it be me working<br />
On being a better me"<br />
<br />
become, at the end of the song<br />
<br />
"If I'm all fangs and all lies and all poison<br />
if I'm really what they're saying<br />
I don't want to disappoint them"<br />
<br />
So I suggest this only about the persona that wrote Magnolia Electric Co: that the narrator of the songs ached to be loved for his faults, rather than for his accomplishments. But trying, creating, was that hand in the dark looking at the stars. Without it, the dark is all encompassing. Without it, we have only ourselves. We try, and perhaps fail, but we try.<br />
<br />
"The real truth," Molina sang in "Farewell Transmission," "is we're all supposed to try."<br />
<br />
<br />
—<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=27385595" name="fn1"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=27385595#fnr1" style="text-decoration: none;">1</a></sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"Inspired" in the sense of "got me into contemplative reflection," rather than "touched by the muse of" Jason.</span><br />
<br /></div>
Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-67002592934783477512013-03-18T14:48:00.000-07:002013-03-18T14:48:18.095-07:00Tidepooling, Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, Moss Beach, California<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV8IoTykWWpaRqDpMueZT5a7LL7pwB1nfEFznyKooTuyEBCyvNhMNr8QL4Zj9HcTjlhDmloL0hw4QC6FnyVDBr05dnbSs0hzepJhDT8eTFM4UDW9SE6A04x6NxOue-60g8cqK/s1600/066.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV8IoTykWWpaRqDpMueZT5a7LL7pwB1nfEFznyKooTuyEBCyvNhMNr8QL4Zj9HcTjlhDmloL0hw4QC6FnyVDBr05dnbSs0hzepJhDT8eTFM4UDW9SE6A04x6NxOue-60g8cqK/s400/066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627224713150634322" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6Wdn7PW2Y1Xi0PWkXwIDjkCn8u4VvwihstHlaXNH2MShi3FUFooIfnoVzByNlthsWvgoIjBSPRkeoFMsxaDl0tkclpsCqDRx5VYU8b9SrRlDaE2-Z8qs2GJn-2nc3UbJ29tv/s1600/067.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6Wdn7PW2Y1Xi0PWkXwIDjkCn8u4VvwihstHlaXNH2MShi3FUFooIfnoVzByNlthsWvgoIjBSPRkeoFMsxaDl0tkclpsCqDRx5VYU8b9SrRlDaE2-Z8qs2GJn-2nc3UbJ29tv/s400/067.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627224404404820770" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBw_660vqFtufeYGO_v1bqw1iYM5E-KS5_yr4_twP4QkgAtvOCR6fa7BoslSdyaLmKNE4hyphenhyphenxT5p7_nRxVroEsOuYIa-VubJQ6Ox3GE4Ur8afgyLmV2ivkdJKGORo7fHpv23H8/s1600/062.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBw_660vqFtufeYGO_v1bqw1iYM5E-KS5_yr4_twP4QkgAtvOCR6fa7BoslSdyaLmKNE4hyphenhyphenxT5p7_nRxVroEsOuYIa-VubJQ6Ox3GE4Ur8afgyLmV2ivkdJKGORo7fHpv23H8/s400/062.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627224031737288130" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJNN2uq_k-rZpQ3ZY3ALV0mBj9K83dKbUkFeCpdYA8UwzuCiksr0NNpzL1_52hGWbAAdMvf8sK93bpci_t8YZs4Sx8E1UkE3tKHPAsXTfximniofQdLgpfBI2SZd-ekXfDhuQ/s1600/055.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJNN2uq_k-rZpQ3ZY3ALV0mBj9K83dKbUkFeCpdYA8UwzuCiksr0NNpzL1_52hGWbAAdMvf8sK93bpci_t8YZs4Sx8E1UkE3tKHPAsXTfximniofQdLgpfBI2SZd-ekXfDhuQ/s400/055.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627225476845201186" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdiAnR298ypiVHuZyorgOe2xkLEcnxMo7m08GC-AVl1gomF3xBhqKNctAwOs5c04C4or30FrrnCjOhx3ZekW8izzSHxuql8aXzdKtDWir94_1vEXSbv7hdo-0sygR6q2-Zjw8/s1600/034.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdiAnR298ypiVHuZyorgOe2xkLEcnxMo7m08GC-AVl1gomF3xBhqKNctAwOs5c04C4or30FrrnCjOhx3ZekW8izzSHxuql8aXzdKtDWir94_1vEXSbv7hdo-0sygR6q2-Zjw8/s400/034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627146790977809922" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-65632037265540137112012-02-03T11:19:00.000-08:002012-02-03T11:37:52.508-08:00On rooting<p>One funny thing about being in La Patrona, about being on this side,<a name="n1"></a><sup><a href=#fnt1>1</a></sup> is that now I root for everyone to get across safely. </p>
<p>Not that I was against it before; but when you talk with folks and come to understand the hardship they've come from is so severe that the hardship they're going to—on the other side, in the U.S.—looks like paradise; <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcmboumG2h6nqteTkkD6hUzFQOR-vpd_Ol9rfXW582IFEARviTt-JTOG-EhOYdbx4BL7pb14DmS3jcGesCwfOgcHxFr30ZkVIpziG_R7XhM4ZluOL0ueUcOQjvOiupPTdrCcv/s1600/IMG_3123.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcmboumG2h6nqteTkkD6hUzFQOR-vpd_Ol9rfXW582IFEARviTt-JTOG-EhOYdbx4BL7pb14DmS3jcGesCwfOgcHxFr30ZkVIpziG_R7XhM4ZluOL0ueUcOQjvOiupPTdrCcv/s400/IMG_3123.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704994750019592450" /></a>
when you see a train where the folks get off and you see the faces terrified by something that happened along the line, when you can see it in their eyes and the ways they move their bodies, and you know that the stories of the Zeta kidnappings are not a joke<a name="n2"></a><sup><a href=#fnt2>2</a></sup>; when a good-looking, dark-skinned Honduran<a name="n3"></a><sup><a href=#fnt3>3</a></sup> with just a wisp of a beard on his chin tells you, tells <i>you,</i> that "to go to the US and work as a painter, maybe in a garden, it is my dream"; when a man who's fallen off the train, who slipped when he was climbing up a ladder as the train started moving off a siding, is more concerned with finding a friend from home again that being treated for his abrasions and contusions and the gravel still lodged in his back; when you see a couple every day who are working in Mexico because their third friend who they were travelling with robbed them one night, including their shoes, and was gone in the morning; when they casually mention that for four days further south there was nothing to eat but mangos; when all the migrants want to learn a few phrases in English, and you've got the line about us not really using "good afternoon" down<a name="n4"></a><sup><a href=#fnt4>4</a></sup>; <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPiLrcaaAfs4gDLkBCXt93zLlNtvl6w2k3jX3X_Iz7W-hzD-frVdJ6hPJmVziHNlZJoaXgUtO4v0OSE_6BsbZF49HeNh29CkWMxKSvYF-C3LqG0fQb-Zq8ndZ8fJ_wRxkRyI0/s1600/IMG_3124.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPiLrcaaAfs4gDLkBCXt93zLlNtvl6w2k3jX3X_Iz7W-hzD-frVdJ6hPJmVziHNlZJoaXgUtO4v0OSE_6BsbZF49HeNh29CkWMxKSvYF-C3LqG0fQb-Zq8ndZ8fJ_wRxkRyI0/s400/IMG_3124.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704995276085525346" /></a>
when the guys who didn't make it, the guys going back home—Santos from El Salvador one night, and before him Rene from Honduras, and before him Hector (also) from El Salvador—talk your ear off because they've been so scared and reserved and caution and alone for two and a half months (Santos) or two months (Rene) or three months (Hector); when one of the guys going home tells you he only finished the second year of primary school and later asks you, the gringo, the guys he's speaking to with simple words so you can have a conversation—he asks you how to spell "Calle de la Cruz"; when you talk to the migrants going either direction and realize that whatever they earn is always divided up, always remitted, in other words that they give to the families that they can only go back and see on pain of completing (or not) their journeys north again; when they are thankful for being recognized as people, just that; it is hard not to want them to find what they are after. </p>
<p align=center>*</p>
<font size=1>
<p><a name="fnt1"></a><sup><a href=#n1>1</a></sup><i>Este lado</i> and <i>otro lado, this side</i> and <i>the other side,</i> are the ways we talk about the border here. </p>
<p><a name="fnt2"></a><sup><a href=#n2>2</a></sup>See, for instance, <a href=http://72migrantes.com/recorrido.php>72 Migrantes</a>, which tells the stories of the 72 bodies found in San Fernando, Tamaulipas in August 2010. San Fernando is about 1,000 km north of La Patrona, 1,000 km closer to the border; most of the time 1,000 km more hopeful.</p>
<p><a name="fnt3"></a><sup><a href=#n3>3</a></sup>Oh man, Mexico and race is craziness. I can only assert to you that this is pertinent.</p>
<p><a name="fnt4"></a><sup><a href=#n4>4</a></sup>In Spanish it's normal to switch from "buenos dias" to "buenas tardes" at noon. We don't really do that.</font></p>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-68582025085181028892012-01-20T07:47:00.000-08:002012-01-20T07:47:01.461-08:00Veracruz, Veracruz<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaNuK5WDmDQodoTe-YAIp0AEaCTx0-aOhX0jZMj9hMe3pt3lCroT7j-XxffGT3ukDZZ8EJVeufhaU-a00c7UyZpRjnkk9CN9F_leMhHr79Vjh0UPJiTBBzdbUs4BfS-LUBYwq/s1600/IMG_3140.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaNuK5WDmDQodoTe-YAIp0AEaCTx0-aOhX0jZMj9hMe3pt3lCroT7j-XxffGT3ukDZZ8EJVeufhaU-a00c7UyZpRjnkk9CN9F_leMhHr79Vjh0UPJiTBBzdbUs4BfS-LUBYwq/s400/IMG_3140.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698999593122475442" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfqkYbs6UW5cYjisBGKoRUgiLKGHlTGslgKh1rK38kXnFaLdsyLAhuZndVPpa0iJfUYWHiHAOWGgY5E7TJFob2SLwbSqVTpCZM0lfu-wJy-jXgUiAjyn6Lbxu9B2CqdvdtoSn/s1600/IMG_3143.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfqkYbs6UW5cYjisBGKoRUgiLKGHlTGslgKh1rK38kXnFaLdsyLAhuZndVPpa0iJfUYWHiHAOWGgY5E7TJFob2SLwbSqVTpCZM0lfu-wJy-jXgUiAjyn6Lbxu9B2CqdvdtoSn/s400/IMG_3143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698999596768076882" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-61516703492250881672012-01-18T07:23:00.000-08:002012-01-18T07:38:07.096-08:00La Patrona, Amatlán, Veracruz<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcx87vUpg8Vu8CHVtBAdlbtrmoLtpidEcuEyt8X01-3jdl6J29SJMfHY4qiEEyaIBOgcVecRyv72LzgY2TrfpVeEc8K_OPxC1jsEe9z36z189CifbpB6BkFXtWZK-Unmm3A_WS/s1600/IMG_2236.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcx87vUpg8Vu8CHVtBAdlbtrmoLtpidEcuEyt8X01-3jdl6J29SJMfHY4qiEEyaIBOgcVecRyv72LzgY2TrfpVeEc8K_OPxC1jsEe9z36z189CifbpB6BkFXtWZK-Unmm3A_WS/s400/IMG_2236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698994890217642786" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ruYoOvfZY9-x7w7DjNtJ2OcdQhSKOeTcZd48x9J1BnX_lmbYPMv9cAzwMG_QDFWeqTBnpJzeqCdWY9FQMlXpVRCkQ2Rkzszp_lCmJVungWORZxGBlQ0njDBGnJnTQTnWCLKm/s1600/IMG_1459_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ruYoOvfZY9-x7w7DjNtJ2OcdQhSKOeTcZd48x9J1BnX_lmbYPMv9cAzwMG_QDFWeqTBnpJzeqCdWY9FQMlXpVRCkQ2Rkzszp_lCmJVungWORZxGBlQ0njDBGnJnTQTnWCLKm/s400/IMG_1459_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698996287632208418" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWvH5a6XT7gz7jk4oJqRT-wVAmF6U-PEOXsoANGSjyudq_U1bUwJaHrjgN29ARC6em_kEMByBgxfI6HYsSJZ27u5rRawFDCdJmU8FWPXNydZSd9YXQxE2NXI3IefucGYOkxssH/s1600/IMG_2229.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWvH5a6XT7gz7jk4oJqRT-wVAmF6U-PEOXsoANGSjyudq_U1bUwJaHrjgN29ARC6em_kEMByBgxfI6HYsSJZ27u5rRawFDCdJmU8FWPXNydZSd9YXQxE2NXI3IefucGYOkxssH/s400/IMG_2229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698994039891184146" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbTVatHxSZngY8XTH00Mi1czQKNSvw62Y12iRe93B_zpG4g8cSOsrYbIQN_FZQ-MBqJcgBjupPgUexXdqkG53SHn48s0aguebAoPIekBPYsJ6jP4ZTZVvbcHPDpMItODHDr94/s1600/IMG_2099.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbTVatHxSZngY8XTH00Mi1czQKNSvw62Y12iRe93B_zpG4g8cSOsrYbIQN_FZQ-MBqJcgBjupPgUexXdqkG53SHn48s0aguebAoPIekBPYsJ6jP4ZTZVvbcHPDpMItODHDr94/s400/IMG_2099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698993534883863330" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-23439628701957759562012-01-16T22:39:00.000-08:002012-01-16T22:46:53.041-08:00The Pico de Orizaba<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_AigBrxUUEN7zxyiCOP5rj2SmfcNOWscIGxxikxwnf7xS266lBaUN4lsOIE-sr7vRuOBzPv7q92mJqXG3qWQikiDV6j1YUDzZI4WFk6J0nY6N8cuisXGwYF-_ycJ96AKiOda/s1600/IMG_2080.JPG">
<img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_AigBrxUUEN7zxyiCOP5rj2SmfcNOWscIGxxikxwnf7xS266lBaUN4lsOIE-sr7vRuOBzPv7q92mJqXG3qWQikiDV6j1YUDzZI4WFk6J0nY6N8cuisXGwYF-_ycJ96AKiOda/s400/IMG_2080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698487641789434930" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-16792443306237166122012-01-15T22:32:00.000-08:002012-01-15T22:41:26.778-08:00La Patrona Cane Fields, the Aerial View<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_VXuShG0otX4Mr_KYk8ij9dptQt_I7vAYUbOakf63SBesXw6jN2ZWZ8FMdmwqzAhwDpBNp2X6ylVSDD1KYTQm6IcynKNzrW4rrBWyaBsFiOF9qBBtAeEHFD-Ihzo5WFX5akH/s1600/IMG_2086.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_VXuShG0otX4Mr_KYk8ij9dptQt_I7vAYUbOakf63SBesXw6jN2ZWZ8FMdmwqzAhwDpBNp2X6ylVSDD1KYTQm6IcynKNzrW4rrBWyaBsFiOF9qBBtAeEHFD-Ihzo5WFX5akH/s400/IMG_2086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698114926602622738" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ee7S6l24jcPi0kqBCXlaXUKNVK3q9tI5qDrD8Y1KPwJcBgGFJiFKk9fC9x673IattFLwxbvYeXkpaYGsWcQuthXCs4AqDwRx_7AQ_vdpPQtRodQwBdC-en4AD4txPu3RQFcL/s1600/IMG_2087.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ee7S6l24jcPi0kqBCXlaXUKNVK3q9tI5qDrD8Y1KPwJcBgGFJiFKk9fC9x673IattFLwxbvYeXkpaYGsWcQuthXCs4AqDwRx_7AQ_vdpPQtRodQwBdC-en4AD4txPu3RQFcL/s400/IMG_2087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698115564269064066" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsUNRS7CZkbueqnVJGQcDUVhajnUiSv63SCw8damlc_d-srHNs5cvVR7wYTXERLx3wIPnib8vfIxcR9-1ZqCCkY8RJ1N1UvVPfWXYqIGInlFPtuWWkkGcdyay98Ts9uMO5N3g/s1600/IMG_2089.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsUNRS7CZkbueqnVJGQcDUVhajnUiSv63SCw8damlc_d-srHNs5cvVR7wYTXERLx3wIPnib8vfIxcR9-1ZqCCkY8RJ1N1UvVPfWXYqIGInlFPtuWWkkGcdyay98Ts9uMO5N3g/s400/IMG_2089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698116050808219554" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-24502532230378367882012-01-12T16:48:00.000-08:002012-01-12T17:05:07.313-08:00Back in La Patrona...<p>...and everything looks pretty much the same.</p>
<p>I forgot to bring my usb stick home with me, so I won't be able to post pics till Sunday or so--watch for them then, loyal reader(s).</p>
<p>There is a really good movie called <em>De Nadie </em>that features the Patronas for a 5-minute or so section in the middle. The whole thing is up on youtube.</p>
<p><li>Part 1/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX4X1YhW-sY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX4X1YhW-sY</a>
<li>Part 2/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pU4MvVNmSEE&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pU4MvVNmSEE&feature=related</a>
<li>Part 3/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwWTwDTTg-Q&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwWTwDTTg-Q&feature=related</a>
<li>Part 4/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBL2F40Th_c&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBL2F40Th_c&feature=related</a>
<li>Part 5/8 (with the Patronas toward the end): <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q17osTRqNcY&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q17osTRqNcY&feature=related</a>
<li>Part 6/8 (with the Patronas): <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x4PHODdFOc&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x4PHODdFOc&feature=related</a>
<li>Part 7/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTfdvTmJR-M&feature=watch_response">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTfdvTmJR-M&feature=watch_response</a>
<li>Part 8/8: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB-yBhPCCFM&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB-yBhPCCFM&feature=related</a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-2576873319699184812011-09-13T14:56:00.000-07:002011-09-13T15:21:15.718-07:00Care in La Patrona<p>The Patronas don't know who is on the trains, not usually. They don't know their names, their birthdays, their brothers or sisters or cousins; don't know whether they are mean or nice, quick to anger or cool and collected, whether they tend to remember birthdays, whether they've gotten in trouble back home. The Patronas don't know where their homes are, or why they've left.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKcZp-TcKgSq9n55tz0oSK51x8EI8xa2ouO6pbHbXhV4we8jicMXaiVMwMHHL92fL076yhEUoNo-AvW6L4JF34KbSqT9grQgsB90_mcByZnPuWOug81plod1Q19a1Cyoa3sjC/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKcZp-TcKgSq9n55tz0oSK51x8EI8xa2ouO6pbHbXhV4we8jicMXaiVMwMHHL92fL076yhEUoNo-AvW6L4JF34KbSqT9grQgsB90_mcByZnPuWOug81plod1Q19a1Cyoa3sjC/s400/IMG_1955.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651969824204739842" border="0" /></a>
<p>You can make less assumptions about the people on the trains than one might at first think. You can't assume, for instance, that you're looking at undocumented migrants—not only do some Central Americans on the train have papers to work in Mexico (even, at times, in the US), but there are also Mexicans who take the trains in search of better opportunities, because they are poor and can't afford a bus, or because they are running from something. The Patronas are particularly bad at picking up accents, and often can't tell if someone they talk to is from southern Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras. (I am not skilled enough a Spanish speaker for close accents.)</p>
<p>But even more, some of the people on the trains are not labor migrants at all. There are the "drogaditos" (in proper Spanish that would be "drogadictos," but I have never heard anyone from La Patrona use the c), who ride the train for kicks. I've seen a kid huffing glue on the southbound train as it rumbles south—the opposite direction that the migrants usually go. But "drogaditos" isn't used only to signify addicts, but others as well: sex workers, effeminate gay men, the homeless, runaways, the transgendered. <a name="CiLPnote1"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=27385595&postID=257687331969918481&from=pencil#CiLPfn1">1</a></sup> Likewise the trains sometimes carry wealthier people, Mexican and foreign, looking to have an adventure. Farther south, famously in the yards of Tierra Blanca and around the depots in the state of Chiapas, the trains carry gang members, especially MS-13, looking to steal from and exploit Central American migrants any way they can, most often by threatening to throw the migrants from the moving train. And more dangerous are the agents of the drug cartels, whose modus operandi is to gain the trust of migrants so that when migrants are later kidnapped, the cartels know exactly who in the U.S. the migrants know and ergo how much money they can extort.<a name="CiLPnote2"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=27385595&postID=257687331969918481&from=pencil#CiLPfn2">2</a></sup></p>
<p>They all get food. Everyday the women of La Patrona wait for the sound of the train, the tickle and whisper at their ears, to go out to the train tracks. When the train comes they are ready, plastic bags of comida first, bags of pan dolce after, water passed from a wheelbarrow at the crossing with the dirt road.</p>
<p>Sometimes the train is put on a siding up the track, and the Patronas will drive out to meet it, putting all that food and water in a white pickup truck, having the migrants hop down from the hoppers and boxcars. Often the migrants have already gone door-to-door begging for food, and these will come jogging back to meet the truck.</p>
<p>I don't mean to beatify the Patronas, though obviously that is what this sounds like: an encomium. The Patronas are as much flesh and blood as everyone else. When a Japanese reporter visited from Mexico City, they kept referring to her as Chinese and talking about her eyes. They can get moody and irascible. They feud and bicker and pick on each other.</p>
<p>At the train, the trainhoppers are tired and hungry. Sometimes they are sick; sometimes they are scared. Usually, if they are not scared when they are in La Patrona, they have been scared earlier, not only of the cartels and the gangs but of the police as well. They have heard stories. The Central Americans have all heard that Mexicans are mean, heartless, ruthless. They are often touched by the hospitality. Part of forcing them to hide has meant that they are being seen as objects, as potential sites of exploitation and wealth. More important, in order to not be victimized they have to learn to see themselves this way. That is, as things, as always potential victims.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXZKbC4mibbjLVRyTm3AiTdJof3R_Bb8vnl8DWxv42HW2w5CfDMwJMELlbcCCzwKcR637EM4dCf39WdQAkmGQ8mzNY_hidSBgbY9bzdYqxbgk1h10gqB5Xqp9dwgRpR1yBACf/s1600/IMG_1481.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXZKbC4mibbjLVRyTm3AiTdJof3R_Bb8vnl8DWxv42HW2w5CfDMwJMELlbcCCzwKcR637EM4dCf39WdQAkmGQ8mzNY_hidSBgbY9bzdYqxbgk1h10gqB5Xqp9dwgRpR1yBACf/s400/IMG_1481.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651970101014991634" border="0" /></a>
<p>Nearly everyone thanks the Patronas with a “te bendiga” or “Dios te bendiga,” meaning “God bless you.” They say it even to me, the gringo, the güero. La Patrona, the town, becomes for a moment a little oasis, a minute pause, where they can be calm again, not worried, with a temporary family. The trainhoppers often call the Patronas “mamacita” or “madrecita.” I can only tell you this as a person, but what the scene does—the food, the giving, the advice, the sharing—is, for a little while, recognize them as human again. They are back to being people, and the Patronas are just people helping other people. No more than that.</p>
<p>Just for a moment. </p>
<div style="text-align: center;">*
</div><span style="font-size:85%;">
</span><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a name="CiLPfn1"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=27385595&postID=257687331969918481&from=pencil#CiLPnote1">1</a></sup> These are not exclusive categories.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;">
</span><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><a name="CiLPfn2"></a><sup><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=27385595&postID=257687331969918481&from=pencil#CiLPnote2">2</a></sup> Here's how this works, with a lot of variation on the theme: The cartel will pull all the migrants off a train and take them to a safe house. There, they will beat and eventually torture them for the most valuable information the migrants have: the phone numbers of their relatives in the US.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;">
</span><p><span style="font-size:85%;">When the migrants give up the phone numbers, the relatives will receive a call saying that if a large and specific amount of money is not deposited or wired within a short period, the migrant will be killed. </span></p><span style="font-size:85%;">
</span><p><span style="font-size:85%;">From what people in La Patrona have told me—where there is no cartel activity—the sum is usually $3,000 USD and the time is usually 48 hours. And the cartels will kill the migrant if the money is not paid.</span></p>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-84482909504839642072011-08-23T03:46:00.000-07:002012-01-15T22:43:24.139-08:00On cannibalizing research<span style="font-style: normal">One of the harder aspects of my time living in La Patrona—and I say this solely as a person with peculiarities and eccentricities—has been a lack of space, both physical and psychical, for reading and writing. What I've heard from both American expatriates and from some richer Mexicans is that it's common, especially in more rural areas, to see reading and writing as useful </span><i>skills</i><span style="font-style: normal"> but not as either social or socially beneficial activities in their own rights. Early in my stay, one woman described me as</span><i> flojeava</i><span style="font-style: normal"> on my computer when I should have been waiting patiently—</span><i>flojear </i><span style="font-style: normal">meaning fooling around or wasting time.
</span> </p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf8ul0xuWYrWVFRRxlP94ylwhnZhlEmdkkRxUQfmregq5ARpDsAtgdLHRtMvH3m6fVconWWB7O21RUFE21SjGQ3htVCvpPuKP0N00pg9UMcek6m4y2h5OwF3_UJHQvemL8UZK/s1600/IMG_2235.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf8ul0xuWYrWVFRRxlP94ylwhnZhlEmdkkRxUQfmregq5ARpDsAtgdLHRtMvH3m6fVconWWB7O21RUFE21SjGQ3htVCvpPuKP0N00pg9UMcek6m4y2h5OwF3_UJHQvemL8UZK/s400/IMG_2235.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644010981861087810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: normal">I love reading, and I love writing. But I want to give the briefest of accounts as to this understanding of reading and writing before I go on. </span><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">Reading and writing are solitary activities, at least in long form works. You do them alone, and this is in large part because of the mechanisms of thought that writing affords: unlike a movie, when you read you can skim backwards and forwards, you can stop to think, you can cross out words on the page or write comments in the margin. (At least before the ebook you could.) Film and television stop not for minds but for the hands that turn off the projector or the set. Different technologies, different media, different benefits and drawbacks.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">In my part of Mexico solitary activities are suspicious. The ways of showing that you are integrated socially, that you care about the welfare of other people, is to be out in public talking, hanging out, and working with others.<a name="note1"></a><sup><a href=#fn1>1</a></sup> Secondarily, because so many people have limited skills in reading and writing, to be overly concerned with text, especially dense text that's hard to parse orally and meant for expert level readers, is often exclusionary. Even more, simply because reading and writing are in many ways the province of the rich and powerful, to attend to them for hours more than one spends with one's neighbors can look like a specific form of the alliance of interests. Better to read aloud to your neighbors, to help them draft letters, to come up with plans together that you can write down.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">Yet being an academic—or, more accurately in my case, an apprentice geographer—is that my entire output is words. Words, and words, and more words. All I “make,” so to speak, are thoughts grafted onto pieces of paper or, more commonly now, coded magnetically in a computer. There are different words, intersecting with other skills in various ways—for the more macro- or policy-minded, that tends to be forms of statistical analysis; for me, it tends more towards arguments and reasoning skills. And yet still: words.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">My way of managing this, since I've been here doing ethnography, is to write only in notebooks, which reinforces the idea that I am “studying” rather than fooling around. In some ways it's more convenient—I can write down all the small actions that pop out at me, rather than waiting till the evening to see which ones I remember—but in others more trying, since I type much faster than I handwrite. In other ways it's been hard, as I write to help think through things, and for me to be forced to write differently—slower in one register; by hand in another; and I'm sure there are others—means to change how I think. For me the physical practice of writing is linked to the </span><i>embodied</i><span style="font-style: normal"> practice of thinking. And always has been.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">But there has been another challenge to writing as well. In doing ethnographic fieldwork, my goal is to capture what the people here are actually doing. The benefit of ethnography is that what people do is often vastly different from what they say they do—and not because people are dishonest or habitually lie to interviewers. An NGO came through a few weeks ago and did the simplest, most rudimentary of interviews, which at one point asked one of the women if they paid for vegetables. The woman being interviewed said that they didn't; in truth the Patronas probably paid for vegetables somewhere between a third and 40 percent of the time while I was there. Yet this can look like “not paying”; after all, more than half are just free.<a name="note2"></a><sup><a href=#fn2>2</a></sup></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">The challenge of writing about ethnographic fieldwork, for me, is that these little essays are incomplete works, works that I always mean to ground in the embodied experience of being-here. They are (meant to be) essays in the Montaigne-an sense, “trials” or “attempts.” But academia demands expertise, certainty, and even—this despite decades now of feminist criticisms and critiques—a sort of knowledge that is legitimated, disembodied, certain; yet at the same time arguable. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">In such a position, it feels—here I am again—that to write based from my field notes is somehow to cannibalize my fieldwork. The parts of the work that will become papers later need more thought, more reading; but I don't fully know what those are. Yet the more spatial and temporal distance I put between me and my experiences, between me and this place, the less present are any of the aspects of being here. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">Indeed, this little essay is exactly a response to that. Precisely what I am </span><i>not</i><span style="font-style: normal"> writing about is the tensions of research; and because of this, I can address them in all of their embodied senses—I can write that not-writing sometimes makes me jittery and irritable—exactly because there is nowhere else for such thoughts to go. These thought are in some sense the offal of my work, the scraps to be made into sausage or soup stock; they are not the meat.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">One last point. I started out by talking about how the literal and social space of La Patrona influences or exerts some level of control over how I write. The flip side of this is that academia is doing the exact same thing. I am conditioned, or self-conditioning, in terms of audience, tone, accessibility, and a whole host of practices of legitimation. I am legitimate on the blog because I write well and am in Mexico. I am legitimate in academia because I put together an acceptable literature review. Same-same.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">Because writing is so important to me—writing or not-writing making me calmer or more irritable means that my emotional states are influenced by it—this is one of the many ways that academic life colonizes the non-academic life of professors, grad students, researchers and the like. It's not only that in my graduate student like I read less for pleasure—typically I have spent a whole day reading, from student essays to papers to academic books—but also that even what I am thinking about I don't want to write it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">In office jobs and other work I've done, free time was free for reading, writing, thinking. In academic life it's free for writing and thinking only in specific ways. I'm not complaining about the life—I'm essentially revenue-neutral as a graduate student—and furthermore I suspect that any number of professions, from architects to clothing designers to business executives have the same experience.<a name="note3"></a><sup><a href=#fn3>3</a></sup> It's that airplane-companion question of “what do you do?” where I answer only one thing, where when asking myself I expect only one thing, where profession is proxy for identity.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">When I say then that I feel a lack of space for reading and writing in La Patrona, the real problem is not of how my affairs are conducted from outside, but from </span><i>within.</i><span style="font-style: normal"> The issue is about learning to conduct myself, to comport myself, to self-regulate. My novel is still unfinished, in large part because of lack of time for it. As an (apprentice) academic I am already quite adept at managing myself in academic ways, in turning off thoughts for (say) my blog in order to save them for papers and conferences and presentations. In turning off other parts of my life—fiction writing, and many others—for the thing surrounding me and ahead of me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-style: normal">I don't know that it's wrong to call academic writing fooling around. In fact, it might be right.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">*
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: normal"><a name="fn1"></a><sup><a href=#note1>1</a></sup> As the <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2003/03/caring-for-your-introvert/2696/">classic introvert</a>—meaning not that I am shy or socially maladept, but that I prefer small groups over parties, and that large groups leave me needing space to recharge—I think this would have presented difficulties for me to grow up here.</span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: normal"><a name="fn2"></a><sup><a href=#note2>2</a></sup> I'll only add here that the employees of this NGO were, simply put, </span><i>bad at their jobs.</i><span style="font-style: normal"> In a different situation I would, as a person with a lot of organizing experience, use them as a case study of what not to do, but I'm going to leave them anonymous here, since the project's politics are still being worked out.</span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: normal"><a name="fn3"></a><sup><a href=#note3>3</a></sup>Steve Hely, in </span><i>How I Became a Famous Novelist,</i><span style="font-style: normal"> makes up a fake business/self-help book called </span><i>Caesar, C.E.O.: Business Secrets of the Ancient Romans,</i><span style="font-style: normal"> which is so dead-on that it almost sounds legitimate. Hopefully that sense fades with the recognition that Anglo-American business isn't a transcendental spirit of humanity, but a product of our time and place.</span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: normal">The point here is to suggest that reading </span><i>Caesar C.E.O. </i><span style="font-style: normal">isn't any different from me not-writing about La Patrona: it's the profession that colonizes the rest of one's life.</span></span></p>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-4275312907873102262011-08-15T12:46:00.000-07:002011-08-15T12:50:18.083-07:00How I spent my summer<object width="640" height="390">
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkgEfBmeRp91iAgGWeVwBDcsynQBPi9h9t4AAFEeBdlxclyu6al1OCtFZVnOvwB0gnYozkISDcs1kAYCC1ogJosBajL5BhI5M1GdNKyqBy1q8WKnzUWxgPotrpEWZlgTBggng/s1600/302.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkgEfBmeRp91iAgGWeVwBDcsynQBPi9h9t4AAFEeBdlxclyu6al1OCtFZVnOvwB0gnYozkISDcs1kAYCC1ogJosBajL5BhI5M1GdNKyqBy1q8WKnzUWxgPotrpEWZlgTBggng/s400/302.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630006288672828610" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-71050704671037770552011-07-18T10:12:00.000-07:002011-07-18T10:12:00.474-07:00In Idaho, passing through (Summer 2010)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEaW61tIzWUrBrOrRSnZGd9in8ksvN9IiK5Vb_BVeBZJ_K-5a7Am9cPagWJuPaMWtcDENlaZzHNwXpMgSBISmc9wec5zUHCQOypsvn71kVn-7BafZiJDwtJpYuixcIZOvplec/s1600/276.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEaW61tIzWUrBrOrRSnZGd9in8ksvN9IiK5Vb_BVeBZJ_K-5a7Am9cPagWJuPaMWtcDENlaZzHNwXpMgSBISmc9wec5zUHCQOypsvn71kVn-7BafZiJDwtJpYuixcIZOvplec/s400/276.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630003176820122946" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjoXuNAFBk-d-Ct5cmjeeZdhKKLUZNMPo4dn4FROfO_AayKwKyOXXbLG6DPGFT6QvQq_X1NH_IyLD7ZqhiQ5eGksq5kAGd_suw18234Qq2W76mIyVe-KKKjp8mxKHpaKEMM3c/s1600/266.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjoXuNAFBk-d-Ct5cmjeeZdhKKLUZNMPo4dn4FROfO_AayKwKyOXXbLG6DPGFT6QvQq_X1NH_IyLD7ZqhiQ5eGksq5kAGd_suw18234Qq2W76mIyVe-KKKjp8mxKHpaKEMM3c/s400/266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629999886930442146" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-61383194284999658412011-07-17T10:02:00.000-07:002011-07-17T10:02:00.550-07:00Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley NP<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSMrtVxBC019qEQgeJ8k6xW69cnxRt0gRLrBypARMAJPHqC7dDRkEG4i3kZ3-0SJGsINse3VMKcfrtTVa3MuRORpUZwtzQB7rSosGz1XT9pSMHmm7-e9RJnJKUdTqvcMQouxz/s1600/DSCN1574.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSMrtVxBC019qEQgeJ8k6xW69cnxRt0gRLrBypARMAJPHqC7dDRkEG4i3kZ3-0SJGsINse3VMKcfrtTVa3MuRORpUZwtzQB7rSosGz1XT9pSMHmm7-e9RJnJKUdTqvcMQouxz/s400/DSCN1574.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629998780845394194" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1ubkcmJv9mLBrQgtzXFnLhef1u_vtNG9n_6UtxXHnQ-bSBT839_qF9HjtP3ixrZxookZqoNW9scppHKA_HJ7jRV5N6MGy-twd5b8j2Qr6VqOa6lbjBxlG_2bB5j4xxmM3zjV/s1600/DSCN1688.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1ubkcmJv9mLBrQgtzXFnLhef1u_vtNG9n_6UtxXHnQ-bSBT839_qF9HjtP3ixrZxookZqoNW9scppHKA_HJ7jRV5N6MGy-twd5b8j2Qr6VqOa6lbjBxlG_2bB5j4xxmM3zjV/s400/DSCN1688.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629997213019891634" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-58110761218642552042011-07-16T09:52:00.001-07:002011-07-16T10:02:06.106-07:00Zabriskie Point, Death Valley NP<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMrwAm2WkXHMtdrQaXM8E4bW1_lEcmLs3LhJpF78f2suaCJjNWPNiDUObp0HrlTdPFI7jArkFHReOQ6H9IJifrnxvnJe-JbIGuszXs6VWco2y0HVtdzamhi9JUyfMkb-vhaM0/s1600/IMG_9331.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMrwAm2WkXHMtdrQaXM8E4bW1_lEcmLs3LhJpF78f2suaCJjNWPNiDUObp0HrlTdPFI7jArkFHReOQ6H9IJifrnxvnJe-JbIGuszXs6VWco2y0HVtdzamhi9JUyfMkb-vhaM0/s400/IMG_9331.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629996484839711410" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYNw18I-2DuJniv4miWHyDwso8CuAAoEsgq1CbhMDI9OTHbWOR09USDihxuxBpqQjEzp2wKIfs3E-62-qa3VmhXiIrEpuDsQAaiUzyke66SN6GggkuXU1Vf_ZRtVQM4yzmjyk/s1600/DSCN1637.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYNw18I-2DuJniv4miWHyDwso8CuAAoEsgq1CbhMDI9OTHbWOR09USDihxuxBpqQjEzp2wKIfs3E-62-qa3VmhXiIrEpuDsQAaiUzyke66SN6GggkuXU1Vf_ZRtVQM4yzmjyk/s400/DSCN1637.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629994928022994594" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-33356048892821063002011-07-15T12:01:00.000-07:002011-07-15T12:01:00.212-07:00Ubehebe Crater, Death Valley NP<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0ENQNcR09RFwwvdW4RUw09qzmLEbqQhSCe91RAZ1z1vrRiVcYLMlwBtFDUeVU_XXKCpZVQ7d58kEYEWmoKQDpdho4FVS5E_PmWo7wWWx-wlifx-3EkIsx5LKXxJ-D_NnHz6D/s1600/IMG_9236.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0ENQNcR09RFwwvdW4RUw09qzmLEbqQhSCe91RAZ1z1vrRiVcYLMlwBtFDUeVU_XXKCpZVQ7d58kEYEWmoKQDpdho4FVS5E_PmWo7wWWx-wlifx-3EkIsx5LKXxJ-D_NnHz6D/s400/IMG_9236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628920758727979314" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCQ0mqxtzGOZ0wf0VYYw5IOXbFTyOLx88dIBsuujrsYFdUWVL4Z1kVx-VysNvKOeQjajruP347qg7waajB0fER4omQ-dG_GN2NTip7Iks8IgugV4i1du-yPzpYLJkZfpc8OJR/s1600/IMG_9273.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCQ0mqxtzGOZ0wf0VYYw5IOXbFTyOLx88dIBsuujrsYFdUWVL4Z1kVx-VysNvKOeQjajruP347qg7waajB0fER4omQ-dG_GN2NTip7Iks8IgugV4i1du-yPzpYLJkZfpc8OJR/s400/IMG_9273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628915039020410530" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-27916085609200012422011-07-14T11:42:00.000-07:002011-07-14T11:42:00.489-07:00Badwater, Death Valley National Park<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIYRZHgaz5cyfiwbXOrfZwUnb3pa2Tw7geBx-EoLQSxNYxBYvBdhNTHMSVys0IPdslYmCQWHZM_bNJJhh9rgbXgGLrd03ho66oNCK-neVaUx7OswU493uEuSWSLtMDJaFrZF1/s1600/DSCN1656.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIYRZHgaz5cyfiwbXOrfZwUnb3pa2Tw7geBx-EoLQSxNYxBYvBdhNTHMSVys0IPdslYmCQWHZM_bNJJhh9rgbXgGLrd03ho66oNCK-neVaUx7OswU493uEuSWSLtMDJaFrZF1/s400/DSCN1656.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628913627626294818" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPU3sz8nAQiNPiXIzC6AGfK6YW_Y8tvOMGZXDeNxpKQPWiV19i8wuwr7eDPma_W8dqv2S_pXnOg-NfaIfdFzT1xctW2996fIAagMRea4F039eBO3Xt2c5Vrr5P7-9J18ScJIA/s1600/DSCN1659.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPU3sz8nAQiNPiXIzC6AGfK6YW_Y8tvOMGZXDeNxpKQPWiV19i8wuwr7eDPma_W8dqv2S_pXnOg-NfaIfdFzT1xctW2996fIAagMRea4F039eBO3Xt2c5Vrr5P7-9J18ScJIA/s400/DSCN1659.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628911804733528210" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-52759622711677160162011-07-13T10:56:00.000-07:002011-07-13T10:56:00.443-07:00Near Donner Pass, California<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLN4riJVJAz-E5dKo-wvltl8JJGMy7ytl5gMqrXiEY1FJ_vxv1LSCrUAOSDnQlI9Q-uN3fK0fuvwUD2EhHBoOvbRUgPXIfydpBjYJDmDp9SfA73AhfEjykVY8q8uq2c13QG18/s1600/213.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLN4riJVJAz-E5dKo-wvltl8JJGMy7ytl5gMqrXiEY1FJ_vxv1LSCrUAOSDnQlI9Q-uN3fK0fuvwUD2EhHBoOvbRUgPXIfydpBjYJDmDp9SfA73AhfEjykVY8q8uq2c13QG18/s400/213.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627229791658462098" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCiH3TWVcuHJLDP8mT3QXr7bLqsLoXZAvkME9ezSQfJVLVZ03aP-PSPux00MsQgmoHDT6PSoakIPWJlHDElP46s4kYqCo9vSINCIn3JfiQHDFJbyZhW_W6C8KDmu8i2omce2L/s1600/236.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCiH3TWVcuHJLDP8mT3QXr7bLqsLoXZAvkME9ezSQfJVLVZ03aP-PSPux00MsQgmoHDT6PSoakIPWJlHDElP46s4kYqCo9vSINCIn3JfiQHDFJbyZhW_W6C8KDmu8i2omce2L/s400/236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627228119405444690" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-48252117329884017712011-07-12T11:26:00.000-07:002011-07-12T11:26:00.904-07:00Flowers, Alemany Farm, San Francisco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gwzUMdT18emCO5KcA3q8nFens2PNMNYhmf2pc3HOsc7LqL9QNGHOn6fdJJIcH6dtF-0DvzmuuUaYEIjEbcOtVSLDLGEJg3HNF4LIb12aq9h8Axsc__nTTCy48nYtagUvrpoV/s1600/139.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gwzUMdT18emCO5KcA3q8nFens2PNMNYhmf2pc3HOsc7LqL9QNGHOn6fdJJIcH6dtF-0DvzmuuUaYEIjEbcOtVSLDLGEJg3HNF4LIb12aq9h8Axsc__nTTCy48nYtagUvrpoV/s400/139.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627237399968724994" /></a>
<font size=2>(sunflower)</font>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_Jqsw6g0qbEWpeGBLjthnW2HWZhKIKgrAOf1MZU2nQeqWg8Q5R0HuQJIbtiGKQayS42pBAwOtbSLohUW3wXtHe66f4l8i5MZPTr_KDnn5MsBkiGTjPqINOEMHas42vm7CusY/s1600/122.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_Jqsw6g0qbEWpeGBLjthnW2HWZhKIKgrAOf1MZU2nQeqWg8Q5R0HuQJIbtiGKQayS42pBAwOtbSLohUW3wXtHe66f4l8i5MZPTr_KDnn5MsBkiGTjPqINOEMHas42vm7CusY/s400/122.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627236116825346514" /></a>
<font size=2>(nasturtium)</font>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVipB1iSVp6MCxsjpgesFIV-dc_mVCJzRhsrSpuGoOomxLrD3inAM9SapQiYJEUh5XMuCVaTcDSKZB5DcmYufeliAwK0McQL5N1uiZ-g6dVQDBgzIaNPEa3ov-PtK6vkGt1SMS/s1600/114.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVipB1iSVp6MCxsjpgesFIV-dc_mVCJzRhsrSpuGoOomxLrD3inAM9SapQiYJEUh5XMuCVaTcDSKZB5DcmYufeliAwK0McQL5N1uiZ-g6dVQDBgzIaNPEa3ov-PtK6vkGt1SMS/s400/114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627236876526600530" /></a>
<font size=2>(leontis)</font>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18iJzglZNBLmp33SsSLWJ-LIESj4CPPoKiROF6ek-BkA-glI_3PgJ5uhuEhtnwW32qqnQU-e-1o9AS_U8l46Mqemy6zZzSgDKu2_S_a5P0pvelN0nBl87sP4PA7llsB4rrlvt/s1600/134.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18iJzglZNBLmp33SsSLWJ-LIESj4CPPoKiROF6ek-BkA-glI_3PgJ5uhuEhtnwW32qqnQU-e-1o9AS_U8l46Mqemy6zZzSgDKu2_S_a5P0pvelN0nBl87sP4PA7llsB4rrlvt/s400/134.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627235483832575618" /></a>
<font size=2>(artichoke)</font>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-40865229639960344792011-07-11T11:14:00.000-07:002011-07-11T11:14:00.602-07:00Crops, Alemany Farm, San Francisco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZLNatWRCVGfSWvrRmaZ76uWJMNvA-_r2Sfw6_r4n1iK5nKAfiE3R80lIauripS24Yd4P-zptIY1iAsp8zR1vcLi3rr_jZNHQBS1z860doYr0KtueDRtyJ4yuOohEZUjD1jUX/s1600/156.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZLNatWRCVGfSWvrRmaZ76uWJMNvA-_r2Sfw6_r4n1iK5nKAfiE3R80lIauripS24Yd4P-zptIY1iAsp8zR1vcLi3rr_jZNHQBS1z860doYr0KtueDRtyJ4yuOohEZUjD1jUX/s400/156.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627234121058408034" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlfRoidHnGPIKbMUzdP-fOSkkgNivlPDyKfc5-ECI5In7ThSdmATnzXUXXyc8G1UyUuWwHAeqCkSVIs3HCA9jNPycVSD31h808SwKihdRkMAP4k6URYAZrrAmT6pSC5kc4QEB/s1600/184.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlfRoidHnGPIKbMUzdP-fOSkkgNivlPDyKfc5-ECI5In7ThSdmATnzXUXXyc8G1UyUuWwHAeqCkSVIs3HCA9jNPycVSD31h808SwKihdRkMAP4k6URYAZrrAmT6pSC5kc4QEB/s400/184.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627233109979686898" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-18123439961563766282011-07-10T07:10:00.000-07:002011-07-10T07:10:01.114-07:00Salt Creek, Death Valley<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEmR03kdWSn4jKNmoHvgMQOO1m98sTYj0LjPYlGiQXlCw4_ForFiS0W7kDFYgdh90CblIULW4aioGMD8aKp7kXT0YCHTP2zYY6OC2KQVnYWeWeh9bhaN6EsceujbDdTjJgGoP/s1600/DSCN1665.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEmR03kdWSn4jKNmoHvgMQOO1m98sTYj0LjPYlGiQXlCw4_ForFiS0W7kDFYgdh90CblIULW4aioGMD8aKp7kXT0YCHTP2zYY6OC2KQVnYWeWeh9bhaN6EsceujbDdTjJgGoP/s400/DSCN1665.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627356369113881250" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Zvybo_Pnjay2xqjJFEW9TfGpntQtxzeAD5QfTRPiJxTq9dhxMIcJDXlU9LplBKQdFPEjmuN50p2C3MAijoZXLRLOb7agR-IvCHNP8ckDdqh3ZULZCCuVOFxC2AelSTfQrRpK/s1600/DSCN1669.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Zvybo_Pnjay2xqjJFEW9TfGpntQtxzeAD5QfTRPiJxTq9dhxMIcJDXlU9LplBKQdFPEjmuN50p2C3MAijoZXLRLOb7agR-IvCHNP8ckDdqh3ZULZCCuVOFxC2AelSTfQrRpK/s400/DSCN1669.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627355096217866738" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-53464098244317447132011-07-09T07:01:00.000-07:002011-07-09T07:03:56.069-07:00McKittrick, California<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAggA3MY1Ku0FDE1SQWSwk7JJS0NsfhAr-O1-f9mJHgtLRZ4yI7IdAG_gxdTNeDPbCt5gtVmKYnYqgrYIkIZybM9WU306F2oWrT0jsI-lXbBHoXkvd1vVIyRR7506tDJmgSBku/s1600/DSCN1552.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAggA3MY1Ku0FDE1SQWSwk7JJS0NsfhAr-O1-f9mJHgtLRZ4yI7IdAG_gxdTNeDPbCt5gtVmKYnYqgrYIkIZybM9WU306F2oWrT0jsI-lXbBHoXkvd1vVIyRR7506tDJmgSBku/s400/DSCN1552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627352938615587218" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_FMXq8xIVOXIlkPi4Wiog0JFsglKNNBrGwkmIwiYysMZcNLIXlsvWVeelOJKFjXlhXORvpEADunJ1UzFTN7D32sQM2rZcfQIJvqUWJdtNA5A-cjAJuO2UurAxWylXiUl5W1d/s1600/DSCN1556.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_FMXq8xIVOXIlkPi4Wiog0JFsglKNNBrGwkmIwiYysMZcNLIXlsvWVeelOJKFjXlhXORvpEADunJ1UzFTN7D32sQM2rZcfQIJvqUWJdtNA5A-cjAJuO2UurAxWylXiUl5W1d/s400/DSCN1556.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627352681572925298" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385595.post-83744099043423315882011-07-08T20:58:00.000-07:002011-07-08T20:58:00.801-07:00Rhyolite, Nevada<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pt0HaLYL2xE7b1RgimgbSoH9oinOVX3sKxA0yKVcNba4QMMjmCeLACJCucbgH7hZr8w0nNUhTmd-X5NkYpKWAgCJ_utJFs6LSy4Tza0fWjzKeF9oBx6HRnkxaiysXZV_c8st/s1600-h/DSCN1601.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pt0HaLYL2xE7b1RgimgbSoH9oinOVX3sKxA0yKVcNba4QMMjmCeLACJCucbgH7hZr8w0nNUhTmd-X5NkYpKWAgCJ_utJFs6LSy4Tza0fWjzKeF9oBx6HRnkxaiysXZV_c8st/s400/DSCN1601.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316228764995332418" /></a>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRqCoHKgpv8TmBg7XOIOQ0l-h3M28DnxBw4tjz9z1yGY1ZYRkumrxNpkEw7a8cU2ghb4Rsw0xoo9t-mV53Z_AaRc7OzBj0aNp9eBrOZ7QbB6zIcwtB3DOrbsRV4t1oqIhXf-E/s1600-h/DSCN1618.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRqCoHKgpv8TmBg7XOIOQ0l-h3M28DnxBw4tjz9z1yGY1ZYRkumrxNpkEw7a8cU2ghb4Rsw0xoo9t-mV53Z_AaRc7OzBj0aNp9eBrOZ7QbB6zIcwtB3DOrbsRV4t1oqIhXf-E/s400/DSCN1618.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316229681583992306" /></a>Mario Bruzzonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00935126644342047560noreply@blogger.com0