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joe_haldeman
From Gay: THERE IS NO DARKNESS, the novel collaboration between Joe and his brother, Jack C. Haldeman II, is on sale today only, March 18, for $1.99.
http://www.openroadmedia.com/ebook/there-is-no-darkness/
and also on EarlyBirdBooks.com. http://www.earlybirdbooks.com/ and on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc.
Buy early and often!
 
 
joe_haldeman
05 March 2017 @ 03:34 pm
We watched Aldebaran blink out last night in occultation, right on time at 10:59 p.m. Right above the quarter moon. Quietly magical. Nicely scheduled; we just came in from a Pierce Pettis concert, and watched it from the driveway.

A nice cool morning today, mid-fifties. It was also gorgeous yesterday, and we went out to the Town of Tioga for an art fair, and a good lunch at the Spanish restaurant, Saboré.

I was greatly tempted by a couple of clever pens, repurposed military ammunition. But the most impressive ones were $50, so I resisted.

I didn't take any special drawing stuff to the concert, but did a pencil sketch in my small dinosaur notebook. (Somehow I got mixed up trying to draw his hands playing the guitar and got the right and left mixed up! That's what I get trying to do two things at once.) (Oh well -- Picasso did it too, and got paid well for it.)

Will be going to meet Doris Nabors and sister-in-law Barbara for lunch. (Three cardinals, two of them bright red boys, playing out by the feeder in back. Plus a couple of mockingbirds, much annoyed by them.)
 
 
joe_haldeman
25 February 2017 @ 09:26 am
We had a few hours of good observing last night, though I got tired and pooped out. There wasn't a long line at the star telescope (so to speak), a giant 10" refractor., where we saw gorgeous colors in the Orion Nebula, and a stunning clear view of "the Pup," the dim white-dwarf companion to Sirius. (It's nine magnitudes dimmer than the Dog Star, whose flood of brilliance normally washes out the Pup.)
We did a little exploring during the day. Went to the Blue Hole, a fresh-water pond that's a circular crater that is actually a deep salt-water hole with a "lens" of fresh rainwater floating on top. Fresh-water fish like bass live there. And three alligators.
 
 
joe_haldeman
24 February 2017 @ 08:35 am
Friday: Saw a Key Deer a couple of houses away yesterday morning.
We went over to the Winter Star Party site, but heavy clouds moved in.. We were moved by Christian charity to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies from a table of cuties, though, and charitably munched a dozen or so, walking back.
Too tired from our labors to even watch television. More torpidity than labor, I suppose. We'd also had a generous supper up at the No Name Bar & Grill, a large order of fried grouper.
(The place was full of HUGE people, which might have impaired my appetite a little. I wonder whether they all live on the island, and they're lithe and beautiful until about thirty, when with great relief they surrender to their appetites.)
Still scattered clouds this morning, but they're beautiful high cumulus, cheerful and hopeful. Except to astronomers, perhaps.
I hope we have another good night of observing tonight, but it was good to have the one.
I got a nice pair of binoculars yesterday, to replace the lost 7X50's. These are a little smaller, 8X42. Noticeably lighter, for birding, but still good light-gathering power.
I have four hard-cooked eggs sitting in hot water. Delicious farm-fresh, perhaps from the cacklers that wander around underfoot. Think I'll attack a couple of them.
 
 
joe_haldeman
23 February 2017 @ 08:49 am
Thursday: It was cloudy last night, but I can't say I was disappointed. We were pretty tired after walking around Key West. We had a good lunch with old friends Toni and Larry at that beachfront bistro that we often bike to, Salute. Went to the specialized KW bookstore -- no new Hemingway or Fitzgerald -- the lazy guys have quit writing just because they're dead -- but I got Key West:Turn of the Century (a picture book) and Walk on Water, by Lorian Hemingway, EH's granddaughter, who is evidently a chunk off the the old block, a hard-drinking laconic word lover. Opening at random --
"We hadn't reached the Gulf Stream yet, but there was a light chop, and the sun, at 10 a.m., was a high-noon sun. The bank of clouds in the distance that had brought hard rains the night before showed in relief against waves that were green and aqua peaks, as if painted by a sea-struck Van Gogh, all their madness and tranquility taken into account."
Not too shabby, granddaughter.
We had a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc at a wine bar on Duval Street and walked awhile looking at tourists and natives, pretty easy to tell apart.
We were just as happy that clouds kept us inside last night. Watched some interesting public TV and turned in pretty early.
I went out at dawn and wandered around a bit in the quiet beauty. A little rain after midnight had discouraged the bugs; I hope it was clear at the observing site. (The weather there can be much different from here, less than ten miles away.) It's about 75% cloudy now.
 
 
 
joe_haldeman
22 February 2017 @ 09:29 am
Wednesday: It's a pretty horrible morning, for the beach: Cold rain lashing all night long. My only thought Thank god we aren't stuck in a tent! There've been plenty of star parties that we spent shivering in the rainy dark while the invisible stars wheeled overhead in uncaring invisibility.
In space, no one can hear you shiver.
Which I recall in this warm rented apartment. The coffee just started burbling! Life can be a poem.
Here insert a sonnet:
The first quatrain is about cold and rain,
The second is darkness and death.
The third, though, is coffee starting to perk --
And the fourth is not having to work.
I guess that's a sonnlet. Not quite fourteen lines.
In fact, it could be salubrious to recall nights in jungle darkness, rain rattling on your steel pot, eyes straining for the death that waits in the night.
That was half a century ago. But memory is always green.
 
 
joe_haldeman
21 February 2017 @ 03:57 pm
We did have good dark skies last night. I didn't set up a scope -- Gay and I just wandered through the lovely darkness (trying not to bump into anybody's expensive treasure!) looking through other people's. Some lovely familiar sights. The most impressive might have been the least impressive if you didn't know what you were looking at, a dwarf star in a big telescope: a single smouldering coal, deep dark red. Bright and dark at the same time.
That was R Leporis, Hind's Crimson Star. It's deeply variable, and so not visible much of the time. Its discoverer Hind said "“of the most intense crimson, resembling a blood-drop on the background of the sky; as regards depth of color, no other star visible in these latitudes could be compared with it.” It's one of the first things I look for in the winter sky, with a large telescope.
The same scope gave us one of the best views of the Orion Nebula I''ve ever seen, a billowing cloud with hints of green and red. It was a huge (to me) 24" Dobsonian.
That was the largest one available to hoi polloi. Larger scopes were being employed to more serious ends, in one case by scientific folks in science-fictional uniforms Maybe they were not from this Earth.
Micki's Kitchen, always a welcome sight, was on hand with pastries and oceans of coffee and hot chocolate, lights dimmed to preserve our night vision. Very welcome hot dogs and hamburgers for the protein-starved.
I brought a telescope, my 4" refractor, but haven't unpacked it yet. In fact, we haven't yet claimed a site, and may not, since we're staying at a rented house ten or twelve miles away, rather than camping. We're just stellar tourists, so to speak, hitching a ride.
Of course I feel ambiguous about that, since we're necessarily less involved. Though in fact we're seriously involved with the enterprise, doing registration eight hours a day during the daytime. (One or two people a day recognize my name on the nametag. Not as many as twenty or thirty years ago. In any case, a Hugo or Nebula winner has less cachet than someone who commands a huge piece of glass.)
It might be worth noting, with a breath of irony, that my tiny 4" refractor would have been HUGE when I started spying on our heavenly neighbors
Tomorrow we have a day off, so we're going to head down to Key West, 35 miles down the road, to indulge in the exotic pleasures on offer there. We're immune to the most famous ones -- it's the center, of course, of gay culture in the American south -- but there are other distractions.
 
 
joe_haldeman
21 February 2017 @ 03:24 pm

Sunday: So here I am on Key Largo. About as far from Bogart and cigarettes and shots of straight whiskey as you could imagine. Well, it's too early for that anyhow. In a generic Holiday Inn, though I think it's actually called something else. A Home2. Perhaps a distant relative of R2D2. All plastic and pastel.

Coffee that has heat and caffeine but naught else. The cardboard insulator that protects me from the cardboard cup is stamped RYKOFF SEXTON PERUVIAN COFFEE but really, how can you know? I bet they could sneak in some Uruguayan if it was cheaper. So we're just about done with the eight-lane thruway plunge, and into the more interesting crawl down A1A. The morning fog is burning off, not quite 7:30.

I had a stomach upset for about half the night, but it's okay now.

Of course a family full of shouting, running munchkins just invaded. I moved out into the noise and fog. And birds -- doves hooting and crows cawing. Tweeters tweeting. And three feet underground, a nameless thing shifts its gelatin-smirched wings, readying itself for birth and death. Come. Come feast on the children.

Another ordinary day inside the head of Joe Haldeman, aka Robert Graham, hack writer and plagiarist. (That was on F. Scott Fitzgerald's business card.)

So we'll point the car's nose south and head in the direction of lunch. Used to be a nice drive down a two-lane road with ocean on both sides. Now it's four lanes, sometimes six or eight, from which you can sometimes see the sea.

But we should be off on a pleasant side road. It looks good in my mind's eye. We'll see what the more mundane optic detects.

 
 
joe_haldeman
18 February 2017 @ 07:24 am
This is one of those "who woulda thunk" moments.  I'm down in Merritt Island. Florida, just a few miles from the launch pads that have been a gateway to the Solar System for decades, and I'm drinking coffee from an OU Sooners coffee mug.  It's more than half a century since I went off to college in Norman, Oklahoma, and met Claude and Karen Keezer and began playing guitar in their coffee house.  Claude's been gone a few years now, but we still drop in on Karen whenever we're down here.

Went out last night to watch their son play, with his wife, in a beachside bar.  That's been our custom for some years, decades now.  We always head for the Keys in February, for the dark skies and warm clear air of the Winter Star Party.

We'll be doing some registration work later, but for a few days we'll just enjoy the weather and the sky in the land of Jimmy, not Warren, Buffett.

Still on the mainland, until about noon.  Then we head down A1A, deep blue ocean on both sides of the road, to an island that sprouts telescopes this time of year.  The Winter Star Party, where tanned bathing beauties stare at the pale white skin of astronomers who keep vampires' hours.

 
 
 
joe_haldeman
08 February 2017 @ 09:48 am
When I  was in college my relatives sometimes invited me down to their fishing cabin in the Louisiana bayou, where the relatively shallow water was teeming with alligator gar.  Big suckers, more than a yard long.  Good eating, though the white locals disparaged them as "colored-person food" (when they were being polite).    My white relatives knew that was nonsense.  They're delicious baked, or cut up and deep-fried.
I swam in that lovely warm water for just one day, until a toothy six-foot gar jumped out of the water in front of me.  I suddenly felt like bait.
I've swum with bigger fish, sharks, in the Caribbean and the Pacific, and intellectually I know they're rarely interested in people.  I still get out of the water unless I'm in a group.
Joe