A Party, the Old Ken Way

Sometimes it is not only nice but necessary to have a party. What is your relation to the enterprise of partying? Do you have any kind of over-arching philosophy by which you abide?



Well, for Old Ken, there is a key word: costumes! At a recent shindig (or record-hop, or jamboree, depending on how you like to say it), a special table was set out with different costume elements with which guests were encourage to accessorize. To the left, of course, we see Mr. Chris in what can only be described as a fuschia, cheetah-print, felt-textured pimp hat - - one of several gems yours truly found at Claussen House upon a recent visit. Now, I'll confess that said hat was originally intended as a gift for Mr. Postie, but the prospect of transporting such a delicate item cross country while navigating two airport visits with it, seemed a little to much to ask - - even of a Man from a Place who knows a thing or two about a fine chapeau.



Senor Cyril, to the left, was able to enjoy a hat of a different kind, as this plush, blonde wig was another Claussen House find. To Old Ken, the wig, upon its discovery, had smelled a little pissy. I would not want to hazard a guess as to how it might have acquired that distinctive odor; indeed, the mind boggles at the prospect. Nonetheless, with a little bit of cleansing, it was perfectly fit for sartorial integration - - a task Cyril has certainly pulled off to fetching effect.




Now, it's certainly all well and good to have friends of the human persuasion at a party. But what about animals? Should they be excluded? What about those proverbial "party animals" - - do they work to blend species boundaries in a transgressive and yet fairly non-threatening way? Well, the consensus at this recent event was that animals should be encouraged to enjoy themselves too. So, while Jen (in black in the foreground of the picture at left) brought along her small dog, Brie (in green at back) kept her small kitten upon her shoulder.




Inspired by the contagious spirit of this menagerie, Old Ken donned his famous costume and, like magic, became Gary the Cat. A little backstory here: many moons ago, Old Ken was required to attend a Halloween party in a city in midwestern America. Wanting to combine his congenital attachment to haunting realism with conceptual flair, Old Ken first envisioned a costume that sought to identify and replicate the distinguishing features of Stefania's female cat, which is mysteriously named Gary. As you'll remember, Gary is a big butterball feline with huge, protruding nipples. Recognizing that quintessence of Gary could thus be captured by mimicing the visibility and distinctive patterning of these nipples, the Gary costume was born. Please, go on: bask in its glory!

Boys Night Out ... Let's Go!

Back again! Do you like to go to the races? Do you like the heart-pumping action of watching automobiles careen dangerously around hair-pin turns? Well, neither does Old Ken. Nonetheless, that was what was on tap last night, in the hot bed of Northern New England racing that is Thunder Road in Barre, Vermont.



Once that had become tedious, we got our priorities in order and hit the bar. As you can see, we had some curious customers up in the mix. We have some dear chums of Old Ken's here; from left to right, Mr. Bex, Mr. Postie, and Sir Jack Stones.



As we had some serious catching up to do over some Pabst Blue Ribbon (and Postie had a real score to settle with Bud Light, which had obviously wronged him), conversation was tight as a drum-head. Postie really lit things up with a dramatic description of his "non-violent physical restraint" techniques.



While, as you may be able to tell from the photograph above, Mr. Bex was doing nothing to discourage Postie's demonstration of said technique on Old Ken in the back of the bar. For some reason - - perhaps an eagerness not to compromise his street cred at his neighborhood bar - - Jack Stones was having none of it. The loss to the world is almost incalculable.

Fern-tastic Fantasies

Now, as you or may not have noticed, Old Ken has been especially negligent about keeping up with the blog as of late. Indeed, I have been on vacation back in ye olde country. While I still am on the flip side, I thought I'd share with you some of the sights and smells of that place Old Ken calls home.



As you scan the page here, you may be asking yourself: "What is this? From LearningQuest to FernQuest?" Well, yes and no, friend. You see, one night as the O.K. was settling into bed, attempting to get used to a substantial time difference, I happened to have a look into a book written by my grandmother many moons ago. In this book, my grandmother was describing playing a game with children—a kind of counter-factual, make-believe enterprise—in which you ask your interlocutor what kind of creature they would like to be. Or, should you prefer comparison based games, you could which of two options would be more attractive.

In any event, when this question was turned back upon my grandmother in the book, she had written that she often found herself wanting to be a fern. To Old Ken, this vegetal alter ego struck a chord, as my grandmother had always tried to teach me to identify ferns—a project that to this point has had little success. But, as I encountered this passage in the book, I wondered if by asking me to recall names and forms of ferns my grandmother was not in actuality trying to communicate something about herself? More mystically, as is my wont, was she perhaps suggesting that when she passes on to another life, she might return or be visible again as a fern? However, we might want to resolve these niceties, I decided that I was going treat this whole fern-identification bit in the spirit of LearningQuest and, more importantly, bring you along. So, grab your magnifying glass and join this disco in-fern-o! (Sorry!)

Our first fern-friend is named "Royal": as represented in the photoraph above, it seems to have elongated, smoothly edged leaves, which project alternately from stems at approximately forty-five degree angles. It is my understanding that the singed, maroon fertile frond, visible in the upper left quadrant of the photograph, clearly designates this as a fern. There was also a reason given by my grandmother explaining why this particular species was designated as royal; I wrote this down, but alas am not able to read my writing!



The second specimen on tap is called "Bracken." I am not going to try to come up with a rationale for that one, but this plant looks much closer to what I think of as being "fern-y." That is to say, its small, indented leaflets are symetrically aligned along stems that alternately project from major, arterial branches. No fertile frond seemed to have been present; but, not to worry as we'll be seeing more of those.



"Christmas" is the name of the third ferm type—an appellation that seems like it could be remembered through a couple of different mnemoic hooks. First of all, as the photograph above suggests, the juxtaposition of the scarlet spores on the back of the fern's leaves with the verdant hue of its face suggests the colors of the holiday season. Slightly less fancifully to Old Ken's mind, the extremities of the fern's form might be said to describe an elongated triangle akin to a tall, thin Christmas tree. Also, at the base of every fern is a pile of presents.



Our fourth specimen is called "Interrupted," a name that seems to demand less interpretive legwork that our previous efforts. For, as the example depicted in the photograph above, the plant has a series of leaf-branch registers (I count seven in the example in the center of the picture) followed by an interruption, wherein the pole-like stem is populated only by the crusty husk of the fertile frond.



"Maidenhair," our fifth fern, has always been one of Old Ken's favorites. Why? Well, all the reasons I have thought of sound dirty as soon as I write them down, so I am going to hide beneath the shield of the sweet, sweet de gustibus. Anyway, we seem to have more or less symetrical branchings of leaflets from arterial stems. Yet, significant differences from other specimens are clearly discernible. Note the lovely ebony coloration of the central stems, not unlike the silky hair of a beautiful Mediterranean maiden. Or the dainty fringe-like flanges on the outward-facing edge of the roughly rectangular leaflets. Curious indeed!