is a tiny wandering imaginary dinosaur which migrated from AOL in October of 2008.

Thinking Lizard

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.


[6-16-2009 Update Insert: Most of what is in this space is now moot. I found out what I was doing wrong and have reinstated Archives and Labels searches. They do work. However, in certain cases you may prefer Labels to Archives. Example: 1976 Today begins in November of 2006 and concludes in December of 2006, but there are other related posts in other months. Note: Labels only shows 20 posts at a time. There are 21 hubs, making 21 (which is for 1976 Today) an older hub.] ********************************* to my online poems and song lyrics using Archives. Use hubs for finding archival locations but do not link through them. Originally an AOL Journal, where the archive system was nothing like the system here, this blog was migrated from there to here in October of 2008. Today (Memorial/Veteran's Day, May 25, 2009) I discovered a glitch when trying to use a Blogger archive. Now, it may be template-related, but I am unable to return to S M or to the dashboard once I am in the Archives. Therefore, I've decided on this approach: a month-by-month post guide. The sw you see in the codes here stood for Salchert's Weblog when I began it in November of 2006. It later became Sprintedon Hollow. AOL provided what were called entry numbers, but they weren't consistent, and they didn't begin at the first cardinal number. That is why the numbers after "sw" came to be part of a post's code. ************** Here then is the month-by-month post guide: *2006* November: 00001 through 00046 - December: 00047 through 00056 -- *2007* January: 00057 through 00137 - February: 00138 through 00241 - March: 00242 through 00295 - April: 00296 through 00356 - May: 00357 through 00437 - June: 00438 through 00527 - July: 00528 though 00550 - August: 00551 through 00610 - September: 00611 through 00625 - October: 00626 through 00657 - November: 00658 through 00729 - December: 00730 through 00762 -- *2008* January: 00763 through 00791 - February: 00792 through 00826 - March: 00827 through 00849 - April: 00850 through 00872 - May: 00873 through 00907 - June: 00908 through 00931 - July: 00932 through 00955 - August: 00956 through 00993 - September 00994 through 01005 - October: 01006 through 01007 - November: 01008 through 01011 - December: 01012 through 01014 -- *2009* January: 01015 through 01021 - February: 01022 through 01028 - March: 01029 through 01033 - April: 01034 through 01036 - May: 01037 through 01044 - ******************************************************* 1976 Today: 2006/11 and 2006/12 -- Rooted Sky 2007: 2007/01/00063rsc -- Postures 2007: 2007/01/sw00137pc -- Sets: 2007/02/sw00215sgc -- Venturings: 2007/03/00216vc -- The Undulant Trees: 2007/03/00266utc -- This Day's Poem: 2007/03/00267tdpc -- Autobio: 2007/04/sw00316ac -- Fond du Lac: 2007/04/00339fdl -- Justan Tamarind: 2007/05/sw00366jtc -- Prayers in December: 2007/05/sw00393pindc -- June 2007: 2007/06/sw00440junec -- Seminary: 2007/07/sw00533semc -- Scatterings: 2008/08/00958sc ** Song Lyrics: 2008/02/sw00797slc ********** 2009-06-02: Have set S M to show 200 posts per page. Unfortunately, you will need to scroll to nearly the bottom of a page to get to the next older/newer page.


Monday, March 31, 2008


From 3:14 PM beyond 5:30 PM/ thunderstorms were coursing through this city. For most of that time I had my computer system unplugged, but I had slowly been constructing a post over at my Rho- blog, and so I was constantly checking the online weather map I use; and when it appeared there would not be much more rain, I went back on and completed my post. Have been trying to rid myself of stacks of old mail, and that is the project I was working on during the storms. Early on I saw the thickest bolt of lightning I've ever witnessed zap in the distance, and for a short while the winds were whipping the rain nearly flat. Three tornadoes did some damage in and near small towns. One farmer was blown about forty feet through the air, but dropped into soft grass. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-31

Sunday, March 30, 2008


Good morning. My being here is a bit of a surprise since thunderstorms passed through Springfield during the night and today and tomorrow are forecast to be rain days. This is the first Sunday after Easter. Went back to reading my Lawrence Grant White translation of Dante's Comedy. Read seven sections of the Paradiso. Also read some more pages of Art and the Intellect by Harold Taylor. Both of these books I have read before, but years ago. words from one of my unpublished journals Each human is unique. Each human is a creature who thinks and a creature who feels. And some of the deepest human feelings are fueled by beliefs: beliefs that should not despise uniqueness, but often do; beliefs that should not cancel thought, but often do. I know that the ability to feel is just as necessary for our species' survival as the ability to think. I know the reptile brain in each of us is quicker to act than the new brain. // But I also know that howevermuch the flames of feelings, and all too often negative ones, rise from our moralities, the cores of the great moralities of this planet favor the flames of positive feelings, feelings possible only for those who are able and willing to honor thought: Jesus of Nazareth's, for example, when He urges us to love not only our neighbors but also our enemies. Please: whenever you and I disdain others, we first of all disdain ourselves; whenever you and I disdain others, we are saying that it is all right for others likewise to disdain us; whenever you and I disdain others, we join those forces that disdain humanity. The less we are willing to live with each other, the more we will have to die with each other. 1983 Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-30

Saturday, March 29, 2008


Here's some information about daily water, sodium, and potassium intake from an August 2004 post at News-Medical. - Here's an alkaline/acidic foods chart from the Wolfe clinic. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-29

Friday, March 28, 2008


Last night late while winds whoed into & under my bedroom window/ I read 12 and 13 of Dante's Paradiso. As usual, I spent much of the day bouncing from blog to blog, leaving a comment at one of them. Also did some research on the "intentional fallacy' and the "affective fallacy" as I needed to refresh my memory. Slowly I am getting recharged regarding poetics. Nada Gordon interviews Benjamin Friedlander Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-28

Thursday, March 27, 2008


Matthew Barney is a sculptor who has had what I class as a charmed life. See Wikipedia article. From this about him: ". . . exploring the notion that form emerges through struggle against resistance." * thank you, l. q. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-27

Wednesday, March 26, 2008


The last two days a post at a blog I visit has moved me to comment twice beneath that post/ and to spend several hours last night researching via G- the topic "immanent critique"/ and also to add links in my Rho- list to two .com sites. Since around WW1 this planet has slithered into a cavern of contradictions of such force that the gyroscopes of the teeming humans upon it are consistently askew. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-26

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


Have been busy with other projects the last several days. This morning at this: Most Common Tax Scams Placed the final page of brians brain 2000 up yesterday on my bajsalchert blogspot blog. Have been reading many things online, and posting comments. Most of that has been done at poetry blogs, particularly the Poetry Foundation Harriet blogs. If you would like to read and vote on poems, Andrew Shields has an ongoing project for doing so. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-25

Saturday, March 22, 2008


Venturings The Guardian How shall he sing with dangled tongue Our vibrant warrior roundelay; War in rags and sleep in dung; Scurry as though the bees had stung, When we are other cares away? "How can his back be glad, though wrung," Where he must sing with dangled tongue Our vibrant warrior roundelay And pommel jungles in dismay Or cough up sand from stifled lung Or butted, fall to naked clay? Oh how in that foul disarray, How shall he sing with dangled tongue Our vibrant warrior roundelay? (????) - Brian A. J. Salchert


Venturings Holy Saturday 2008-03-22 And though He had not yet risen, the Lord Jesus went to that place wherein He would interact with certain waiting human spirits, telling them that the time was near for them to be taken from there into that realm beyond the need for patient hope and ardent faith And I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not and I am not until I am alive in Love ! Brian A. J. Salchert

Friday, March 21, 2008


Not all blog previews are trustworthy. The preview where my other blog is does not tell the truth. The preview where I regularly comment does not tell the truth. Why? Those who programmed those previews ought to know, and they ought to know how to program them so they tell the truth. Although I can learn how to work around such faulty previews, previews which do not tell the truth irk me. Given these facts, it is just as well AOL Journals does not provide previews. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-21

Thursday, March 20, 2008


Sprintedon Tracker has been discontinued. Diary, though it may not be daily, is replacing it. d = diary In mulling over projects, there's a chance I may stop posting poems of mine after I sense Seminary, The Undulant Trees, and Venturings have ended. Have begun a new project, but it will remain a penned poem. Am not even sure I will be able to complete it. All day Tuesday it was windy and rainy with scattered storms. Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-20

Sunday, March 16, 2008


Read the Gospel of Matthew 26.36 - 27.60 __|__ | | Entry2649 [ Note: 26 + 36 + 27 + 60 = 149 = 100 + 49 ] [ Note: This weekend I remained in my apartment, but I brought the missal I had been given when I was in a Jesuit Noviate 46+ years ago/ into my den/bedroom, and placed it at the foot of the bed. At that point in the reading where Jesus expires/ an instruction tells one to kneel and pause. I, carefully, knelt, and then looked up. The time on/ the clock I've placed on the bedboard's top shelf/ was 1:10 PM. At 1:11 PM I carefully rose. For those of you who do not know this about me: some years back 1:11 (both AM and PM) became for me God times. ]

Saturday, March 15, 2008


The Undulant Trees 5 AM In the distance herorrrrrm herorrrrrm a coal train passing through Springfield MO and then nearby cheep cheep cheep a robin wakes the night & I I keep my self in bed white low brown eyes hid - Brian A. J. Salchert

Tuesday, March 11, 2008


Dark (The End of a Culture) Rats' tails rats' tails they're comin' they're comin' e-e-e-e-e NO! they're comin' dark I saw a bloodied baby, his left ear almost gone; his throat a punctured song. And whistles fly from the corner bricks, and dead leaves freak in the wind. A man in white and crimson has turned down 7th Ave.; he knows just what I have. It won't buy me a ticket to God or get me home; its clouds blot out the sun. And whistles fly from the corner bricks, and dead leaves freak in the wind. Some say the Beauty's coming, some say the Devil's Beast; some fast, some splurge and feast. Some think a dude like me should be pummelled dead as dust; some think that I should run. And whistles fly from the corner bricks, and dead leaves freak in the wind. The news is spread for garbage and stuffed in drafty holes; our heads have lost their souls. The church that makes the money is still thought number one; but this MAN tradition's done. And whistles fly from the corner bricks, and dead leaves freak in the wind. I saw a bloodied baby, her right ear almost gone; her throat a punctured song. Rats' tails rats' tails they're comin' they're comin' e-e-e-e-e NO! they're comin' dark 1974-11-30 Brian Salchert 2008-03-11


Friends Morning glories climbing high, patterned pieces of the sky: oh why do I, dear, find them so entrancing when ev'- ry day I see them soft- ly dancing? When we were both in seventh grade I barely knew my body's ways, so made it seem I wanted you and no one else. (Chorus) When we were both in junior high my body knew it wanted guys, but couldn't make my heart believe that wasn't hell. (Chorus) Now we have both to each to each been married for ten altered years, and I am out but still with you for we are friends. Morning glories climbing high, patterned pieces of the sky: I know why I, dear, find them so entrancing though ev'- ry day I see them soft- ly dancing. 1975 Brian Salchert 2008-03-11


Lucy Well he found her in the back where the railroad track took a little turn and the switch engine came and the switch engine went at a slow burn and you could hear its whistle every time for the road ahead and the road behind but you'd never know when he would be seen with his Lucy again Oh oh oh bubbles in the water bubbles in the air I had some dreams once I wanted to share but just as I woke up bang bang bang they popped Now he thought that was her horse that had eased off course chewing flowers down where the Sims' gulley fell near his dad's town and you could hear it whistle every while like a fear that stares or a fear that smiles but you'd never know when he would be seen with his Lucy again (Chorus) Yes he kissed her in the field while the tractor's wheels toasted in the sun and the boys happened in and the boys happened out with their toy guns and you could hear them whistle every night for the dream begun for the dreaming done but you'd never know when he would be seen with his Lucy again (Chorus) 1975 Brian Salchert 2008-03-11


Say Hi to the World (Chorus) Say hi to the world Say-ay hi hi hi hi-i Say hi to the world Say-ay hi hi hi hi-i There's a blue sky rising there's a warm breeze playing there's a good day rolling there a new bird preening (Chorus) There are bright eyes talking there are sweet tongues kissing there are wise hearts telling what is worth our keeping (Chorus) There are people moving there are people standing there are people marching there are people spending (Chorus) There are times to fathom there are thoughts to open there are dreams to father there are wills to ocean (Chorus) I will spring my being and become full summer then in fall walk blazing to my mystic winter (Chorus) (Chorus) 1975 Brian Salchert 2008-03-11

Monday, March 10, 2008


Young Ones I Knew Who Died My father asked me who had chopped on the maple I looked at him in surprise We found out & I told him I would tell them we were angry & that they'd have to chop it all down if it died But I only told Bob not Jerry and later that summer he was gone He had fallen to leukemia in the bed house a baseball trophy by his side A young one I knew who died Some summers later another Jerry out in left The last time I saw him in the sky He had jumped up to snag a zinging baseball What a wonder His catch sparkled in the eye But a few days after he was hunting when suddenly he stood in the boat and his uncle accidentally let his gun fire a bullet in the back of Jerry's coat A young one I knew who died Now last night my Janice reading somewhere in the paper found a Dale who had worked at the inn A skier I remember as she told me where he'd gone to: near Slinger at Little Switzerland And I wonder what went through his head as the truck rumbled closer to their car though I know what he wished may not matter and the living need to live with their scars A young one I knew who died Young ones I knew who died 1975 Brian Salchert 2008-03-10


Venturings Commencement Still must I contend with vanity, and lose. For certain matters matter past all will, And though a poet would desire to die In purer worlds and there renew his life, The paradox reverses in its time. So days like this bring scratchings on a page With more important scribblings of mistakes, What then? But questions are irrelevant, The patron says. And so this little frame Sweats out its dusty task and cultivates A desert for his race, and so this youth Expends some thousand minutes swinging blanks Against a vaporous crowd; and so, at last, He really dies (his brothers will not miss Him though a few may hang his picture on Their inner walls); yet there's the patron, friend, And even if I were an angel low There'd be a ceiling to repair, a cell Which I could not escape but by a hard And satisfactory epic sky and cramps An old marine would rather not recall. But I procrastinate, as all our pseud- O intellectuals say. I must begin. Four years for most; still, nothing has an end, And we are what we make and what makes us; And if our senses slice through every realm Or every realm attacks and slashes them, Those days that rolled the snow across our eyes Or dropped the sun a certain million miles Are both our gain and never once our loss. How I despise these platitudes I raise Though they may well be truer than we feel (A spider's web could say as much; perhaps Much more); but there's the patron, sir, and though A mallow or a friendly wink would soothe In better ways anachronistic bones As these of mine, the world must check and mate Me if I ever hint at such a move. A grave iconoclasm now prevails Which, somehow, each of us must shatter out: But there are years and trees and many births-- Yet not a billionth of a spark of time-- For us. So where is our commencement won If not beyond these wrinkled vines, if not Beyond these growing stones, if not beyond? Someone will speak of orbs to us, but we Do not want orbs but herbs; but we do not Want herbs but love: learning all our lives. (1965-1982) - Brian A. J. Salchert


Venturings Stages One day when I was tricycling free through air And summer came the "whom" of drums, the "where" Of brass. Wonder wheeling response to both, I prayed they would march till distance was bare; Prayed they would march till melodious growth-- Mysterious as the varying shade I peddled through--could no longer be loath To share its faraway goads, goads who played Near railroad yards in suits of blood and blade. And again today I remember fields Whose star-white blooms brought o strawberry yields We sunk ourselves into with laughing joy; We plucked, we pressed, we smeared. How wild the wields Of berries crushed! How cool and pink each boy! Neat screams: chaste girls who ran through weeds; who fell On clumps of razor grass: new queens of Troy For us to save, new tears to wipe on hell. How soon we lost our hearts beneath that spell! So, as eleven solar orbits turned Me toward a special pine, those hopes I spurned On music's board began, somehow, on art's To climb; and I, rejoicing, deeply yearned The miracle of canvas life. My heart's Impatience gathered oils. My fingers strained For the mixing knife; grasped released the darts That tell. . . . And so I brushed and stained My tree: all that was lost; all that was gained. But time allowed another turn, and I Allowed my paints to crack till knowing why The notes would not; nor would the brushes' strokes, Long last. For days this self, a foreign sigh, Appeared to be, as if a webbing's spokes Destroyed by some invader hard about And the webber forced to hide, spinning jokes For its survival, jokes which could not shout: Each word must be a pebble ringing out. (1964-197?) - Brian A. J. Salchert

Thursday, March 6, 2008


Edges of Knowledge Thursday 2003-08-28 - Passing through difficult hours (days). After eating my "Meals on Wheels" gift this noon, I made a second call to J. L. at E. S., telling him I was about to take a rest because I was still tired from the 9:15pm Tuesday and the 9:15pm Wednesday difficulties-- all of which may be true but now seems to me not accurate in the details/ as I "think" I am getting my days mixed up. At 3:11pm I was awakened by tromping winds. I noted the A/C was on and a small branch with new leaves from my "drop-drop" tree was in the lot next to the back steps. That the thermostat temp read above 80 surprised me some since I felt cold, but I let it be. I went to the den, then into the restroom; then unplugged the three lines I routinely unplug when a heavy storm is about. I then got into my jacket and returned to the kitchen/ where I opened a tube of Ritz crackers, removing eight to a bowl. Back in the den/ I took my multivitamin with water and those crackers. The storm tromped on and no new one seemed likely to take its place; so at 4:11pm I plugged/ up again. Saturday 2003-08-30 - Janice--several years ago--told me to throw away the 2 heart-shaped Valentine balloons on sticks/ I had stationed at the top corners of the metal shelving here in the den nearest the doorway to the living area/ no matter they had not in the least deflated. (The Sam-set for 4:14pm Topamax watch is waking the creatures asleep on the sofa-bed.) At last I did: first to a waste basket near the TV, and today to the large kitchen basket, where--after a time--I removed their sticks, lightly knifed their internal inflations, and quartered their poles. Pride, Jesus, You know how I am beset with/ a dikydak pride. Monday 2003-09-01 - Admittedly, I had been considering doing so for some time, but yesterday--by a curious yet binding turn of activities, I took my spirit to St. Augustine and his Confessions. The web-site I decided to enter--. If it happens you are not aware 32 is a central number in my life, and, 16, collaterally is--. According to the information given there, Augustine of Hippo was 32 when he became a true Christ-follower--a conversion his mother St. Monica had been praying for for many years--and also that one of the chapters in his autobiofraphy centers on his 16th year. Sunday 2003-09-14 - [ Note: this entry consists of two poems, both of which are now in my in-progress Venturings book of mostly poems. Therefore, I'm going to place links to each of them here instead of placing each poem here. ] A Cardinal of Consciousness ***** *** *** ***** Sunday 2003-09-21 - Yesterday, after not having done so in a long while, I washed my hair; and J. C., with the aid of another, started building a shed. I'd planned to go out, but I was so tired. I fell asleep several times during lunch. One time/ I tried to highlight/ a few front hairs with sardine oil. It didn't occur to me until today that 9, 20, & 3 add to 32, and 32 adds to 5. I have a semi-habit of checking the heat pump thermostat before going to bed. Sometimes I turn it off. I don't have it set to blow warm. Normally it will start between 10am and 1pm. I knew it was going to much sooner this morning because the temp stayed high last night. At 7:11 (by this den's clock) it came on. Sprinkles!: 10:39am. Three scoops of yogurt and a slice of blue pie replaced my usual breakfast this morning. Another strange day: as most are. I might be back. Friday 2003-09-26 - Nothing - Brian A. J. Salchert

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

A Snow Song The snow is falling, The snow is falling, Like white fluffy quarters All over the ground. The snow is falling, The snow is falling, Like white fluffy quarters All over the ground. The snow is falling, The snow is falling, Like white fluffy quarters All over the ground. I want to go out, And I want to play. I want to dance in The sno-ow today. Yes, I want to go out, And I want to play-ay-ay, And I want to dance in The sno-ow today. I want to prance in The sno-ow today. I want to angel The sno-ow today. [ The above could all be repeated three times, but not necessarily the same way musically. There's a melody in my head for this which--as it usually does--came before the words did; however, that melody (even with its last line changes) may be the melody for a song whose words I don't remember. I at first thought it might be a song whose words were in German. This song's words (lyrics) began arriving shortly after 7:30 AM, and its title came later. While I was looking out my bed den window after 7 AM/ fluffy flakes did fall. ] Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-03-04

Sunday, March 2, 2008


Edges of Knowledge Sunday 2003-06-29 - For the last several years now, I have been trying especially hard to identify the Lord's passing (i.e., of-the-moment) signals to me, particularly when a harmless error is involved. Sometimes, I feel in my heart, I do identify His signals. Last Thursday, however, on the van ride home from Epilepsy Services, I--as I see it now-- failed to. It happened there was another passenger. Usually I am the only one. It also happened the driver had never taken me home before, and so was in need of a few directions. Then the passenger called out/ she was bleeding and wanted to be taken back, but the driver told me the place she had come from was now closed. Then the driver missed a turn, and I told her she did/ immediately; so she zipped into a parking lot to turn around. There: we were being shaded by some/ rather large trees, and there is the place where I/ missed my Lord's signal. I should have had the driver stop for a few seconds/ if I could not get right away what my Lord was telepathing. Even though the drive from there to where I live is short, I feel I ought to have talked the van driver into checking the woman passenger's bleeding/ at that place. Friday 2003-07-11 - 6pm is nigh, and I am feeling hungry again. Do not know what it is, but every Friday lately I find myself thinking it is Saturday, or even Sunday. This Friday I actually did get to Publix. After I finish eating I will need to return to my letter to jls. I realize God may take one of us from this plane before any new connection between us occurs. One paragraph in that letter may soon no longer be there, but it will be here. Yes, it is a paragraph about me. * * * Planets, words, numerals: I was still so held by the urge to be a philanthropist, I flatly ignored my lack of all the character traits required. Then my health declined. Thus, instead of being of service to other, as I would have preferred, others have been (and continue to be) of service to me. I feel sure it didn't need to be this way, but it is; and God is, as enigmatically as always, unimaginably good to me. Certainly I/ am not right, if I ever was. (Sister knows.) Nonetheless, with my Early Retriement Social Security and the local services I am allowed to use, I am getting on reasonably well. * * * Saturday 2003-07-12 - Just as the final revision of my letter to jls finished printing/ several gusts of warm humid wind reverberated against this place and into & through the nearby trees. A space in me wanted it to mean something, but I could not tell if it did; and if it did, if it meant good or meant ill. Sunday 2003-07-13 4:59pm - All day grey upon grey with only a speck of blue now and again given the chance to show through; and a smidgen of rain, and later another dildy-dash; but now the threats and the foolery are gone; a real wash takes the air, enters the ground. Less than 15 minutes. Still, it was and did, and my half-thought of a weed eater venture has shrunk dead. Thursday 2003-07-17 - Several nights ago I washed dishes out of need. I had used all 16 pieces of regular silverware; but, having used my original washing routine, those 16 pieces were all I had left to wash. At that moment I decided to take a break. Recently I had gotten into the habit of washing the 4 tablespoons, which are made differently, last. Also, I usually washed 3 together. Since they are under soapy water, I never know which 3 will come up together. Knife, fork, spoon. Knife, fork, spoon. Knife, fork, spoon. And: necessarily: knife, fork, spoon. Finally, with the last 2 tablespoons up and dried, I raised my head, and caught 9:11. The next digital was 9:12. Too strange. Saturday 2003-08-16 (moving past 4pm) - The entry below was originally--but differently presented-- in The Blue Ledger. If I am allowed in, I might become Heaven's Dunce, or one of them. -------------------- Today is Saturday: -------------------- but at 2:34am. - Brian A. J. Salchert