Police and sheriff’s deputies clad in riot gear fired at least four rounds of pepper spray in an hour after asking the demonstrators several times to stop, authorities said. No one was arrested, but paramedics were dispatched to treat some activists.

Dozens of demonstrators crouched in the port plaza, dousing each other’s eyes with water and offering slices of onion to soothe their throats.

“It burned. I couldn’t open my eyes for 20 minutes,” said Rachel Graham, among those hit. “My face is burning. I dunked my face in water and in Puget Sound.”

…

“The majority were very peaceful, nonviolent, just exercising their constitutional rights,” sheriff’s Capt. Bradley Watkins said.

Lee Goldberg – A Writer’s Life — points out that verisimilitude was pronounced dead in the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. I couldn’t agree more.

brave
Originally uploaded by kylekimberlin.

I made this image in photoshop, from two photos I took. I made it for wallpaper, but also posted it to Flickr. I know that many, if not most, of the people who use Flickr are more purists than I am, and frown a bit at heavy digital manipulation of images. I have a different opinion. I consider “post-production” to be an extension of the creative process. But that’s me.

Dear lord above, can’t you know I’m pining,
tears all in my eyes
Send down that cloud with a silver lining,
lift me to paradise

The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here. Or any of the other places down the avenue. I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted — to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself. Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea seemed part of each other. It was like walking on the bottom of the sea. As if I had drowned along ago. As if I was a ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea. It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.

— Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey Into Night

This habit that some jerks have of killing large, exotic creatures just for sport, pisses me off. What a waste. What an incredible disrespect for life.

Back in the days when idiots shot buffalo from the windows of trains, I’m sure the animals seemed infinite. Wrong. Nothing is limitless except God, and everything is here for a reason.

Why is it that some people can’t appreciate anything without destroying it?

Happy to be Home
Originally uploaded by kylekimberlin.

Happy’s very glad to have her Mama and Dad back from their trip, and she’s Happy to be home with them. She’s working on getting used to her new heart meds now. They take a toll on her mood, but she’s a trooper. And she’s breathing well, which is the main thing.

Thanks for all your supportive comments and e-mails. And don’t forget to visit Happy’s personal blog — Happy’s Trials — in the column on the right.

The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.

-Samuel Johnson

I brought Happy home last night. She was exhausted and had diarrhea, poor baby, but otherwise OK. She’s breathing comfortably, resting here beside the desk. We both got a good night’s sleep, which I really needed because I was fairly stressed, and Happy ate her breakfast. Good girl. We have an appointment with her regular vet in half an hour.

until I get to bring Happy home.

I just talked to the vet. Happy’s doing “really well.” Her heart size is better. (I didn’t know that could/would happen, but I guess a stressed and swollen muscle gets better with treatment.) They’re slowly weaning her off oxygen, and I can get her at 7pm.

I’m a little nervous about it. What if something happens while I’m asleep? (Maybe I shouldn’t do that.) I told the vet I miss Happy and she wants to come home, but we don’t want to rush this, if it’s best that Happy stay for observation. The vet said no, it’ll be fine.

You know, taking care of someone small and helpless, especially one who can’t tell you where it hurts, it’s an enormous responsibility. I’ve done it before — with Tasha for 14 years — but it still takes great focus and determined love. It’s still not easy. So those of you who are good parents — of children or pets — have my unmitigated respect.