Divorce: Final!

From Niger to Texas

Back in the autumn of 2024 I had hoped to see Mdou Moctar on his tour stop here in Madison but I didn't go for reasons that I cannot recall. 2024 was in some respects a lost year but in others a time of great joy and punctuated by encounters with the sublime. For the life of me, I just do not remember why I didn't go to that show.

Having missed it, I resolved to keep an eye out for a return visit and that happened last week. This time it was a solo show. Curiously enough, his backing band played at Gamma Ray just a couple weeks ago. That too I sadly was unable to attend.

For this show it was Moctar alone with his guitars. He warned us early on that, since he was without his band, he was expecting us in the audience to provide the rhythm and the audience did his bidding with clapping more or less throughout each song.

Moctar hails from Niger and I've always heard his style of playing referred to as "desert blues", a reference to the northern and western parts of Saharan Africa. While I can hear traces of American blues in his playing, it really sounds more African than it does the Mississippi Delta or the south side of Chicago. His guitar tone was usually clean so it has this tinny sound that perhaps mimics an acoustic stringed instrument from that part of the world.

Whatever the case, he played songs that were on the lengthier side. They settled into a groove early and then built in tempo and intensity with hypnotizing results. If I wasn't clapping along, I would get lost in the eddies of the swirling, meandering melodies which felt elusive, as if I could reach out and grab them only to find that they had slipped through my fingers.

The encore, a song whose title I do not know, saw Moctar go into Jimi Hendrix mode. His guitar took on a dirtier sound and instead of trying to charm us with it, his playing took on a coarser, almost obscene, flavor. Something more primal.

What a fantastic evening. He only played for about an hour but he did chat with folks at the merchandise table after the show. I am looking forward to his return already.

A couple weeks back I was also at the Majestic with a friend to see the Reverend Horton Heat. It had been something like 20 years since I'd seen them and I was really hoping that they'd play "Galaxie 500", one of my divorce songs. But before there was a psychobilly freakout, there were two opening bands, neither of which I'd heard of.

First up was Piñata Protest and I was pleasantly surprised to see the singer strap on an accordion. Soon enough they made it clear that they were not messing around. They were hitting on all cylinders right out of the gate and did not let up for their entire set. Singer/squeeze box maestro, Alvaro Del Norte,  immediately started to career around the stage and spin widdershins while spitting out lead accordion riffs like a whirling dervish on speed. He came to party and would not take no for an answer.

Drummer Chris-Ruptive kept a steady and fast tempo, threatening to maniacally go off course like Animal from The Muppets. Lukily bassist Mike Aguilar was there to keep him on the straight and narrow. Kinda. Guitarist Regino Lopez bolstered the sound with his speedy rhythm licks and he kept up the energy with his own kinetic stage presence as he bounced from his spot on stage to the top of his monitor and back.

The crowd fed off their energy and moshing was to be had. While I personally did not mosh, the energy in the room was so thick you could cut it with the wrong side of a knife.

At one point Del Norte slowed things down and divided the crowd into red salsa lovers vs. aficionados of the green stuff. Having encountered this gastronomic dichotomy in its full glory in Albuquerque a couple months back, I appreciated the sentiment and voted green.

My friend and I ran into Lopez at the bar after their set and he was a really friendly guy. We, well, my companion bought him a beer and we chatted for a bit. He voted for green too.

Black Joe Lewis came next. Another muso I'd never heard of. He played fairly old school blues and R&B with some rock in there too.

While he and his band couldn't match the fiery, kinetic energy of Piñata Protest, they did find their own groove, slower than the manic Tex-Mex punk but grittier. Lewis' singing was really spirited as was his guitar playing which alternated between tasty rhythms and frenetic, dirty solos that conjured the spirit of Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and others in my ears.

Lewis was a nice change of pace that night and, sadly, it had been a while since I'd seen and heard some live blues so it was great to end that dry streak.

When the Rev. Horton Heat came on, it was yet another change in style - psychobilly.

I think I last saw them in c.2003. Where does the time go? The Reverend still has Jimbo by his side on upright bass while Jonathan Jeter was on drums. They opened with "Bullet", the opening song on their first album and segued into "Baddest of the Bad", the night's first busted relationship lament. As it chugged along at breakneck pace, I found myself singing in time, if not necessarily in tune, with the Rev, "Young girls and gin may be the cure". Ha! It was a friend of 35+ years and Yuengling that night but it was cathartic nonetheless.

Some newer stuff came next. "Let Me Teach You How To Eat" dates to 2014 while their cover of fellow Texan Johnny Carroll's "Crazy Crazy Lovin'" appears on their 2023 album Roots of the Rev (Volume One). While the more recent tunes may not have been at balls out, catch us if you can tempos, the Rev still writes fun songs with blatantly catchy guitar riffs.

Then came that quiet strumming. I knew those hushed chords that could explode at any moment instantly. "Galaxie 500"! This song quickly became part of the soundtrack of my divorce last summer and hasn't gone away since. As the kids out front were moshing, I was singing along to every fucking word of that song. When it came around to the couplet "You get the house/I get a cheap motel room", I sang especially loudly as that really hit home. My wife is getting the house and I really did stay at a flophouse motel - twice. (As some kind of consolation, I got a raincheck for a blowjob out of the second stay. Haha!)

It felt so good to sing that tune as it captures some of the anger, some of the intensity of my situation perfectly. And it has a happy ending: "But things ain't so bad 'cause I got a Galaxie 500" although in my case it's "But things ain't so bad 'cause I got a Mazda 5".

They could have ended the show there and I'd have been elated but there was much more to go including my friend's fave, "400 Bucks". "I Found Blue" was written at the behest of Billy Bob Thornton for the TV show Landman while we were told that "Gravel Farmer" dates back to lockdown when the band were doing livestream shows and inventing fake song names. Well, this one stuck and the Rev got Jimbo to write the lyrics. On stage that night Jeter took over guitar and vocal duties while the Rev setup shop behind the drums.

The night ended on an unexpected note. The Rev told a tale about how Hank III bowed out of a tour with them and that he had approached Lemmy as a replacement. The Englishman agreed but refused to play Motörhead's biggest hit despite the Rev's pleas on behalf of fans. And so they left us with "Ace of Spades" which rocked the house and reignited the mosh pit.

There was a running gag that night whereby the Rev would remark that it was Saturday night instead of Thursday. But it felt like a Saturday night with people moshing and carousing as if they had the following day to recover instead of having to work. It was a party and folks were letting loose, though I didn't see anyone get naked.

Fude, 12 Mai 2026

Yesterday as I was walking home, I saw a rabbit scamper away from me into some shrubbery. I turned and looked only to see a squirrel having dinner.

Later that same evening I was at a meeting where someone had brought sernik - Polish cheesecake.

This person had just started to learn to bake and this was her first effort. It was delicious! Not too sweet, soft but with a slightly granular texture. Great stuff.

What to do when you come to a fork

It was a lovely Monday morning in Bloomer and my vacation was coming to a close. Although it was to be a rather warm day, it was still cool when I awoke and clouds streaked the dawn sky as I stepped out of the hotel and moseyed over to Kwik Trip for coffee.

My plan was to take a leisurely drive home with a stop in Eau Claire at The Coffee Grounds for some local flavors to bring back with me.

There I got a cup of coffee, coffee beans, and some brews from Eau Claire's finest. Not being in a hurry I took Highway 93 south where I'd catch Highway 10 in Eleva. The drive showcased just how much the south of Eau Claire has been built up since I lived up there. What had been a sleepy area of town that led to the hustle & bustle of Oakwood and London Square Malls was now home to a senior living complex, stores, various businesses, dentists, and just all manner of things. It was no longer simply gas stations and fast food for those passing through on the interstate.

The drive between Eau Claire and Eleva brought back many memories as I had driven it countless times. Zipping past the road that led to my old man's former home I felt surprisingly unmoved. A little nostalgic but I mainly enjoyed the scenery. Once I got to the top of the ridge just north of Eleva, I looked around at just what a magnificent view it affords. Farms tucked into the rolling hills, fields bordered by woods, and the sun illuminating it all with its warming refulgence.

Heading east on 10 I looked to the north at one point and saw a lovely grassy hill beneath the blue sky and it looked just like that Windows XP wallpaper.

I refueled in Osseo and then hopped onto I94. The drive home went by quickly and traffic wasn't too bad outside of the usual convoys of trucks. After getting home I unpacked and got a load of laundry in the wash. I hadn't really bought much in the way of souvenirs this trip and everything I did buy was edible. Like this chocolate bar.

It's an Abu Dhabi Bar from Mayana Chocolate up in Spooner. I presume it is their take on the trendy Dubai bar, a chocolate confection with pistachio filling that is all the rage in confectionery circles these days, I take it.

Very tasty!

Plus I brought beer back to Madison that is otherwise unavailable here. First we have some Czech-style lagers from Eau Claire's Lazy Monk Brewing.

The Standard 10º brew has proven to be my favorite of the two. Light and crisp and full of Bohemian(-style) brewing goodness.

At Moonridge I picked up a can of their blonde ale as well as a pickle Gose from Half Fast Brewing Company.

I'd never heard of Half Fast. The can says the company is in Spring Valley, WI which is a bit west of Menomonie but that the beer had been brewed in Osseo, presumably by the now-shuttered Northwoods Brewing. I suspect the can was to be found at Moonridge as Half Fast appears to be veteran-owned just like Moonridge. Tasting soon, I hope.

I sat down to check my email and saw that the tree outside the window had come fully into bloom while I was away.

Beltane had truly come to fruition.

Settling down, I thought a bit about Piper as well as the end of my marriage which was likely to transpire the following week. My mind felt a bit weary after all of the contemplation it did over the weekend. It was very nice to not feel the anger that I had felt earlier in the week. At least nowhere near as intensely.

I realized that I had come to terms with most of the changes in my life regarding family the past several months. There don't seem to be any more depths of my marriage to plumb. I think I've examined it thoroughly and discovered the lessons it has to teach, found all the assignations of guilt to be had, and learned the myriad ways that it has affected me. My eldest stepson simply wants my money and so our relationship is on hold, if not over. My youngest stepson is beset by so many problems that I can do little to nothing about so I am resigned to take things as they come and do what I can, nudging him in what I think of as a more salutary direction occasionally.

While the fact that I married my wife remains a source of shame and embarrassment for me, I am content with that. I am content with knowing my mistakes and at peace with my regrets.

No doubt my thoughts on all this will change as time goes on. For now, though, I am trying to heed Henry David Thoreau's advice, "Never look back unless you are planning to go that way." I'm looking forward to my marriage ending soon, to getting a new cat, and treading new paths in life. I am anxious to see where they take me.

Coming soon, 10 Mai 2026 (and The Sheep Detectives)

Seen before a showing of The Sheep Detectives.

Having read the book, I was really looking forward to this one. For me the trailer left open the question of whether The Sheep Detectives was going to be aimed at children or not. Seeing the trailers below left no doubt that it was a kids flick. A bit disappointing but I still anticipated a lot of fun.

Regardless of the intended audience, the talking sheep were well rendered and a blast.

The filmmakers changed a lot in pursuit of a PG rating. For example, the shepherd, George wasn't impaled with a spade as in the book. Drug running? Gone! Etc. Again, one must accept that it's a movie for children whereas the book was for adults.

In the book, George's home - his trailer or caravan - is locked and we are introduced to the townsfolk through the sheeps' eyes when they come and try to enter the it in pursuit of what we don't know and for their own, obsure motivations, neither of which we come to understand until the end. The movie elides this method of telling us about the humans and instead introduces a new character, a reporter named Elliot Matthews, who has come to town for a cultural fair. We get all kinds of scenes involving no sheep at all, something which I believe the book eschewed completely.

The movie's primary goal is to entertain the audience with cute anthropomorphic sheep that make you laugh; the book was more interested in humanity and used the sheep to constantly comment on the townspeople, their foibles, their failings, and the mixed bag of motivations that they and we all are. Humans become more complex and contradictory when the sheep listen in on their conversations.

A little of this ovine commentary on humanity survives in the movie and I am thinking of the scene when the sheep are walking along and one of them talks about God, the name they have bestowed upon the local priest, and their incredulity at his behavior. But I missed how the sheep used their senses of smell to glean information as this is greatly downplayed in the movie. The sheep are basically humans with wool and on four legs here whereas in the book they are no doubt anthropomorphic but they have different attitudes and priorities and are constantly commenting on the contrasts between our two species. The sheep aren't non-human enough here.

While I preferred the ovine commentary of the book to the movie's more stripped-down cutesy murder mystery approach, the movie was still great fun. The sheep were cute and my heart went out to the winter lamb who was shunned by the rest of the flock, one of the very few ways the movie attempted to bring some intersheepal dynamics to the flock. I laughed, pondered the mystery, and enjoyed every second of talking sheep.

********

The first thing we saw that wasn't a Coke commercial was a trailer for Studio Ghibli Fest 2026 which starts in the summer. 

 

Now, a nice looking rendition of the Necronomicon and baby Cthulhu I did not expect.

This looks to be something like a live action The Simpsons movie.

 

Acclimation

Despite my legs still aching from Saturday's walking and the climb up that lake wall, I returned to the Chippewa Moraine Rec Area on Sunday to hike the spooky trail, the one that the DNR has no dedicated map of - the one that runs by the serial killer's house. Last time I only hiked half the loop before wandering over to the eerily named Dark Lake and then back out the same way I came. So this time I was determined to walk the entire loop in addition to trekking once more to the lake of Stygian gloom. Mwahaha!

Before heading out I stopped at Emma Beans Drive-Thru for a cuppa joe. I think it had a better flavor than the swamp water on offer in the hotel lobby but it was somehow brewed even weaker. Disappointing but it was still something hot to drink and surely had trace amounts of caffeine. I briefly considered ordering a cup of hot water so that I could concoct some kind of homeopathic cup of coffee that was fully caffeinated but quickly discarded the thought.

The helpful and friendly DNR lady at the interpretive center had told me on Saturday that demolition of the camp buildings on the spooky trail had begun but was not yet finished. Too bad. The abandoned buildings were not only creepy but also memento mori, of a kind, reminders that life is fleeting and that Nature will prevail in the end and return you to the soil.

Just like Saturday, it was a lovely, sunny morning. A bit chilly when the breeze hit my cheeks but the remaining meteorologist at the National Weather Service forecasted a rather temperate day to come. This trail connects to the one I had walked yesterday but its trailhead is a short drive down the road from the interpretive center. Pulling into the lot mine was, quite unsurprisingly, the only car there.

Just as had happened the previous day, my mind went from enjoying the lovely surroundings to my divorce/how to shed my anger. Bird calls filled the air and they would drag my mind away from the dissolution of my marriage back to the woods. All around me life was emerging from its winter slumbers and I tried to view this as a lesson for me, something to emulate.

 

Less than a mile up the trail I once again saw the spooky recreation/meeting building or whatever it was.

While it wasn't quite as scary in broad daylight as it was on a grey autumn day, those extremely creepy Annihilation vibes remained and I fully expected some Girl Scout counselor's remains to be hanging on the wall, attached by some eldritch, though colorful, lichen that would make the R&D folks at 3M insanely jealous. Thankfully it was just my imagination running away with me.

In order to shake loose any thoughts of hideously transmogrified Girl Scout troop leaders that clung steadfastly in my overactive imagination, I went down to the shore of Hodge Lake which was just gorgeous.

I hit the trail and went deosil this time which would allow me to walk the section of trail I missed last time right away. Almost immediately I ran into a few cabins as well as the remains of others.

Needless to say, the hike was wonderful, the scenery gorgeous. I loved the melodic songs of the feathered inhabitants of the area, the moss that crept up trees, and the sight of the woods about to bloom into a verdurous wonderland.

When my thoughts strayed from my surroundings, I found that they didn't always coalesce around my divorce. My youngest stepson's predicament weighs heavily on me. We had a discussion recently and it broke my heart that he, at the age of 26, harbors no inclination to become an independent adult. It's like he even refuses to build castles in the sky. Bereft of self-respect and unable to comprehend that he is the master of his own destiny, he expects to never work a day in his life, never assume any responsibility beyond paying a couple bills and ordering groceries. Instead of beginning the process of becoming a man, he seems to desire perpetual childhood and there is nothing for me to do about it.

It is absolutely gut wrenching to hear a very smart, funny, and capable young man who is caring and blessed with a gentle bonhomie say that he's inured, not to a life of quiet desperation, but to one of barely getting by. But he is 26 and I cannot do much if he is not inclined to change his life for the better.

 

I think I came to a level of acceptance of this situation in the woods that day. In my mind, I am resigned to the fact that he is the way he is and that he is responsible for changing his life, ultimately. I'll still be there to help and encourage but I suspect that, barring a radical change in his outlook, I will just have to become accustomed to this sadness as a permanent part of my life and move forward.

Another thought that I pondered on my walk was that my family is over. When I got married I had hoped that my marriage would be durable - unlike my parents' marriage and that of other family members and those of the parents of several friends. I had hoped that my family would last, that it would one of mutual support forever, that the kids would be of some help when my wife and I attained old age. But the family has been split asunder and most of its members now see me as nothing more than a bank. My value to them is strictly pecuniary and to be found in my bank accounts.

 

It is depressing to watch your family fall apart (again) and realize that most of your life plans were built on sand. What a fool I was!

 

******** 

At one point I found myself back at the trail I had hiked the previous day so I had to backtrack. But not before spending a few minutes watching Mr. and Mrs. Wood Duck enjoying some quality time out on the lake. Wood ducks are not uncommon in Wisconsin but I've not seen one here in Madison in ages. The male has such beautiful plumage and both sexes have lovely, distinctive crests on their heads. No offense, mallards.

Not the best picture, I grant you, but standing there looking down at them making their way out of a little inlet and towards a wider section of the lake was magical in its own way. The scene was calm and quiet as the ducks cruised along hastily in the distance. My imagination conjured up visions of their webbed feet paddling away in a frenzy beneath the surface in sharp contrast to the graceful gliding on top of the water.

It wasn't long before I found the sign I had missed earlier and hopped back onto the trail I had intended to take. At one point the rustle of leaves grabbed my attention and I saw the blur of a critter scamper across the leaf covered ground towards a tree. I turned to look and saw a chipmunk staring back at me in agitation from the hollow of a tree as if saying, "Curse you human! A pox upon your house!"

Eventually I came to the path that led to Dark Lake and took it. As I was walking, I came to a small pond with a log out in the middle. While I couldn't be certain, it sure looked like there was a turtle taking in the sun on it but it could also have been the remaining stub of a branch. I zoomed in as far as I could with my camera camera which has an optical zoom and took a photograph. When I got home and was able to see the photo, it turned out I was right.

Continuing down the trail, I recalled that the last time I had walked it, I was first delighted by a gaggle of turkeys just ahead of me and then quite startled by a pair of deer who emerged from the woods and ran across the trail. Not long after recalling these sightings, I heard the rustle of leaves ahead of me and to my right. The rustling then became loud thuds as two deer tear assed out of the woods and ran across the trail a little way ahead of me. I'd swear that I could feel the ground vibrate just a tad as their hooves pounded the earth as they fled and I felt like I was in the presence of something larger than me, something that could make the ground tremble.

With the excitement over, I continued on to the lake which looked majestic. And dark. It had a rather fresh smell to it.

I dipped my hand in and found that it was chilly but not freezing cold. Brisk, you might say.

 

Recently I've been touching things more on my walks. Initially it was all about the sights and sounds. This was followed by practicing taking in the smells. And now I am trying to be more tactile, to put a hand in the water, to feel leaves and needles between my fingers, and to touch the bark of trees and let their textures become armor in my Dungeons & Dragons addled imagination. I also bend down at least once to touch the earth and feel its warmth or its chill, to send greetings to the creatures who dwell beneath our feet.

I headed back and for some odd reason I saw the cover of Chet Atkins' Travelin' in my mind's eye. On it he is walking across a bridge with a guitar slung over his shoulder. Why should that come to mind? My father had it on vinyl when I was a boy and I used to listen to it occasionally. What an odd flashback. Or, at least, oddly timed. Ere long I was back at the main trail which would take me past the serial killer's house. 

Thankfully he was not at home when I arrived. A few of the surrounding cabins were gone or mostly gone but a few remained with screens missing and their roofs covered in moss.

Presumably there will be no structures remaining the next time I am on the trail which is a shame as they add a wonderfully mysterious vibe to the scene. Being abandoned they suggest death and decay and just add a patina of weirdness to my hikes.

Just before the parking lot was a pond from which emanated a splash as I was walking by. I stood still and the turtle made a return appearance. A fine send off from the denizens of Hodge Lake.

********

On my way back to Bloomer I stopped in Cornell for a brew at Moonridge Brewing Co. I arrived just after they opened and had my pick of seats at the bar. One nice thing about Moonridge is that you can get 8oz pours and I got one of their Moonlight Pale Ale.

It was quite delicious. Light and bubbly and not IPA (a.k.a. - Hawaiian Punch) flavored. This one just really hit the spot after a nice hike.

As I relaxed, more and more people came in, including families, most of them ordering pizza in addition to liquid refreshment. One couple ordered 3 pies. It was nice to see them doing some fairly brisk business early on a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps the communion wafers and wine just didn't satisfy.

Back at the hotel I showered and again ate the Mexican joint in town. And again I left my phone in my room so no photos of the fine chow nor of the backs of the booths adorned in cacti and sombreros. I felt badly for the waiter as a group of kids in their early 20s came in shortly after I did and the "men" proceeded to be loud and obnoxious. One of them let loose a series of stentorian belches which I am sure the women found adorable. For their part, the ladies kept rather quiet as their male companions whooped it up and played bits of songs aloud on their phones and were, quite frankly, simply annoying.

I was happy to get out of that place.

Upon my return to my room, I settled down to read and before I knew it I had finished that issue of County Highway that I had begun a couple days previously. As I was nearing the end, which is always the music section as it comes just before the final page which is classifieds, it occurred to me that I felt well - mentally. A lot of the anger that I had felt when this trip began had dissipated.

Sadness largely filled the space left when the anger left me though there was some happiness in there as well. I had thought a lot about my divorce during the trip and I concluded after some marriage forensics that, for all intents & purposes, it was over in the autumn of 2022. Everything after that was epilogue. I felt stupid that it took nearly 3 more years for divorce to begin but I was content with my conclusion and simply hoped that the divorce would be final soon.

When I had finished reading County Highway, I almost immediately cracked open Absolution, the fourth book in the Southern Reach series which had begun with Annihilation.

I completely missed its release back in 2024 (shocking!) which was 10 years after the first 3 books in the series were released. The blurb on the back says it's a prequel and the weird, deconstructed alligator on the cover was intriguing in a grotesque kind of way.

While I didn't get too far in that night, I did get far enough to recognize that a wave of madness is descending upon the researchers in Dead Town and that those rabbits just can't be good. They may not portend doom - wait. No, they do portend doom. Like the previous books in the series, the first section just oozes the uncanny and this is one of the great things about the series (and the Annhilation movie too).

This should be a fun and unsettling read.

 

Song of the day, 11 Mai 2026

Cookies!

It's been a while so today I resolved to bake some cookies for my stepson and his father. I decided to eschew the usual chocolate concoction and went with banana bread cookies.

They turned out well with a few of them featuring bits of dried cherry that I threw in just to get them out of my pantry.

I did a bit of sampling and was pleased. They have a cake-like texture and a wonderfully rich banana flavor. I hope the recipients are happy with them.

Random, 10 May 2026

We have trillia!

I recently took a walk around Heritage Sanctuary to look at all the trilliums/trillia.

While there I also saw that the mayapples were in bloom.

There were geraniums too.

Plus these plants whose name is like uvula.

A lovely evening walk after a filling meal.

The agony of defeat