BLOGS

A&T-UNCG Nanoscience-Nanoengineering Consortium

Admittedly biased; tremendously blessed.
December '84, Engineering Physics graduate - Aggie Pride!

A&T-UNCG Joint School of Nanoscience and Nanoengineering

Credit: PhysicsWorld

...thank Einstein (though reluctant to have contributed to its creation), preceding him James Clerk Maxwell,  Michael Faraday, Gustav Kirchoff, Ludwig Boltzmann, Henrich Hertz, Max Planck; contemporaries Enrico Fermi, Leo Szilard and Max Born who coined "Zur Quantenmechanik" in a 1924 paper, the inimitable Richard Feynman, and any physicist or engineer that has studied, used and designed with quantum mechanics since.

The 2011 Japanese earthquake disaster showed that the first few minutes after an earthquake are critical. When the Tōhoku earthquake struck, it took geophysicists more than 20 min to compute that the earthquake was magnitude 9.0 on the Richter scale. Had the authorities known the full extent of the earthquake sooner, it would have given them valuable time to activate early-warning systems to help prepare people for the large tsunami that would inevitably follow.

Hiya gang ready for part II? I'm going to just add chapters as we go and include the previous one in the new weeks offering.

“Red solo cup, I’ll fill you up, let’s have a party, let’s have a party”
You can get the damndest country songs stuck in your head hanging around with white friends, and growing up just outside of Ft. Sill Oklahoma a little black boy doesn't have many choices and the Indians are on the reservation.

Sport and I met when I was 13. Moms moved us back to Oklahoma to be next to Master Sergeant Grampa U.S. Army Retired and the pee wee football coach discovered I’d arrive at the ball hard and fast while Sport would get there fast and hard. I love that fool like people love brothers they don’t have to live with, like someone comfortable even though he is a country fuck.

When he called me that Saturday morning talking about going noodling I knew I had other things to do. Grampa said he was going to kick my ass if I didn’t get the pole barn put up on his land out the other way, but his threats usually came with a smile and I got things done anyhow even if it wasn’t on his time so I let him talk me into it without having to talk about my Momma.

You could always hear Sport coming even before you saw him and that’s even if he wasn’t saddled up to Miss Chatelaine his overly loud F-150 but when he was in her the next county could. Black folks aint the only ones who like loud music, but the difference is in the bass and not the guitar.

Sport got to the little trailer I stay in on Gramps land far enough away for privacy but close enough for dinner right as the sun was rising. Miss Chatelaine loud as ever would have brought gramps out with one of his guns if I were any closer.
“S’up Soul Brother”
“S’up Sport”
we said repeating the greeting that we’d shared a million times before.

Sport’s actual name was Hartwell Carver and his family had been in Oklahoma since they first shot the gun to let the White man carve out sections of it for their very own. We were going to go to one of the many little lakes that dot the landscape that was on one of his uncle’s stakes.
“Soul Brother where’s beer?”
Sport didn't have many words but the ones he spoke had meaning.
“Yeah Sport grab the cooler, but us a case on ice before the stores closed last night. Was gonna take it to the head myself putting up the pole barn but I ‘spect there’s enough to share with yo ass”.

I don’t know how people go hungry in Oklahoma when there is noodling. It’s all about holes and you don’t even need bait, hell you’re the bait. You get yourself down in the muddy water and kind of bob along the banks looking for a hole. In a good 3 out of 5 of those things you can find a throwback creature that was going to be the star of my apology to Grampa the good out the frying pan 45 pound catfish. Just bob along the bank stick your foot in wait for him to bite it with that sandpaper mouth of his and yank his behind on out.

Sport and I filled up Ms. Chatelaine with the cooler and all the gear we’d need in ourselves and headed out before 7 in the morning had really got there stopped by the local McDonalds for 8 mcmuffins apiece as a light snack and headed for the spot. Sport had the ability to take a sandwich in multiples and had downed all 8 by the time we got to turn off the highway and the bare road that led to the lake I still had 3 left I’d leave in Ms. Chatelaine and let Sport try and talk me out of later.

“Sport I can’t take this sad shit anymore let a brother start the day undepressed”
he was feeling cool that day cause he let me without bitching and soon as I reached down into my backpack to pull out some ¾ beat BOOM both of us hit our heads on the roof as Miss Chatelaine bucked.
“The fuck Sport how many times we been down this road for you to be hitting bumps and shit”
“Ayup twernt no bump”
Sport said rubbing the contact on his head like it felt good.
“Well whatever, dude watch that”
he answered with the national gesture of Sportania his middle finger.

I hoped out of Miss Chatelaine to open the gate to the last quarter mile or so to the lake we were fishing in and let Sport drive on up. I wanted to get a little warm up in before we hoped in that cold water so I jogged the last bit in. By the time I got to the bank Sport had already cracked a beer and tossed me one.  I chugged it down without taking a breath and we both jumped in the water. No need to torture yourself with tippy toeing in better to take the bull by the horns.

Bobbing in the water is pleasant. The Oklahoma sun is plenty hot and it does shine through the water but the water is so cool we played like hippos regulating our temperature by either stooping down or standing up as the day demanded.

Sport got lucky in his first few holes and pulled out fish that would satisfy both our families before 1 o’clock. Me I couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the one I saw plus when he bit me he rubbed my knuckles so raw I actually yelped. Wasn’t fun hearing Sport tease me about my bitchiness but damn it hurt. We had just got done sitting on a bank about half a mile from Ms. Chatelaine arguing over who was going to have to lug the fish back when I felt it. Felt like a current, but this lake was one of the ones hooked up to the Ogallala aquifer it didn’t have a river to feed it that was above ground, but dang I could feel a pull. Round about that time the pull started to get strong enough for even Sport to notice it and we stared at each other and jumped the fuck out.

It was an amazing sight. The middle of the lake started to whip up like one of Momma’s lemon chiffon toppings accompanied by a sort of hum. Sport and I headed back for the truck forgetting about the catch he’d worked so hard to pull out of them holes and as we were jogging back to the car the lake started to hum some more, like a negro spiritual being sung by a fog horn on crack it hummed.

We got on Miss Chatelaine climbed up on her roof and spied the lake which had moved from lemon pie to crashing half a mile wide whirl pool. The water was angry and heading elsewhere and for half an hour we watched it saying very little beyond “dayum” then it was over. Lake Get Us Some Fish was empty as a whores heart and not near as pretty. All I got out of Sport for the next 10 minutes of staring was
 “Sheeite”

Credit: LiveScience

• 
  Deification of market forces - Libertarianism, Neoliberalism, Outsourcing - in all aspects of public life
• 
   Devaluation of a well-rounded education curriculum - PE for non-athletes, music helping math scores, art/poetry helping reading comprehension, the discontinuation of learning how-to write in script (texting now dominate) - for standardized testing that teaches life's answers are a, b, c, d, or e (all of the above)
• 
  Disingenuous manipulation of The First Amendment for political gain

Live Science: Crisis for US Science Is Looming, Physicists Warn
APS: See article "Endangered Physics Department Saved,"middle of page

Dear friends (this might be redundant to some of you, but this is the official blast and there's important project info herein!),

Most of you know know about my novel, First Cause; many of you have attended events, parties, readings, and pub trivia nights, and many of you have bought a copy, told friends, and/or written a review. Well I have potentially big news!

I've just been approved for a fundraising project with Kickstarter, an website designed to fund concrete projects for people whose creative dreams need an extra push. I was recently invited to be a literary guest at FandomFest, a speculative fiction convention in Louisville; the attendance is expected to be in the thousands, and this will be a great chance to put First Cause on the national literary map! I would LOVE to show up to FandomFest with 50 copies of First Cause, with the new cover art (which hasn't yet been released in paperback form, for budgetary reasons); this is where Kickstarter comes in! The staff at Kickstarter approved my project, which is a fundraising push for $700 for the costs of printing enough copies to launch the latest edition and have an awesome convention.

Amazingly, I'm already almost 1/3 of the way (actually, as of this post, over halfway now!) towards my goal! But it's an ALL or NOTHING proposition, meaning if I don't reach my goal of $700 pledged, then I get NOTHING :( Think of it as similar to when people raise money for triathlons and races; the goal isn't just a general suggestion, it's a required amount. So spread the word! If everybody kicks in 5 bucks, even, then my first literary guest appearance at a national convention will be supported by a huge fleet of paperbacks!

If you like First Cause, if you want to see your favorite loquacious lefty become a successful author--spread the word! Also, any small amount--literally even five bucks makes a difference--you can pledge would be humongously appreciated. And when I bring my book tour back to NYC, you guys will all get a drink on me. No, really--my original release party, for the first edition a couple of years ago (with no frakin cover art, how far I've come!!), was open bar and food for the entire night...if this kickstarter thing works, and First Cause goes anywhere, I plan to go BIG with the next celebration. But first things first: pledge any small amount you can, spread the word to as many people as you can, and thank you for reading :)

Here's the link to the project:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/421787680/first-cause-a-novel-about-human-possibility-relaun

Thanks for reading! Next stop, the best seller list!

PW

Submit yours: ScienceDebatedotorg2012

http://www.worldhum.com/features/travel-stories/the_lost_world_of_nigeria_20070726/

http://apollo5.bournemouth.ac.uk/africanlegacy/benin_Iya_earthworks.htm

Hermes debued at Austin Convention Center during National Instruments' Week 2011

Link: HermesSpace
Space.com: Mini Space Shuttle Looks for Online Donors

NSBP: NSBP Member Hakeem Oluseyi selected to be a TEDGlobal2012 Fellow
Florida Institute of Technology: Hakeem Oluseyi, PhD Faculty Profile

a cautionary tale of technological excess Θ 

The conference hall was brilliantly lit. 

As we waited for the first speaker of the day to deliver the keynote address, I marveled at the fantastic location for the conference. This was the first conference of this type and they spared no expense to buy the entire building for a day. They hired their own catering companies, with food from twenty five different countries, had a personal security force with sophisticated support services for all technology, incoming and outgoing. Nothing was left to chance. As far as anyone could tell this was just another dental conference in the middle of downtown San Francisco. 

The first speaker was a tall man, possibly from Norway, his blondish white hair was stylishly combed and his suit was impeccable. Once he spoke, his accent was a crisp and cultured German but his English was completely able to be understood. He had learned to speak English in America and I suspected he could make his accent completely disappear if he wanted to. It was the nature of everyone here. We were all able to be more than we appeared to be. 

"Good morning, everyone." 

"Good morning," the audience responded. I looked around at the room and saw an unexpected diversity in the crowd. The room was filled with the old and young, the obscenely wealthy (whose clothing gave them away) and the absurdly radical (like me, wearing whatever crossed our path). Every color of the human rainbow and from every social group on the planet. I could personally recognize at least thirty different facial/social groups in the audience from where I was sitting. Facial recognition was my specialty. I wrote software that could recognize faces from nearly any quality of video. I had auctioned the technology and the client wanted to meet here to contract me for further work. He felt we were kindred spirits and would mutually benefit from the conference. 

"My name is Lars Ulfrich, and I am here to lead into a series of discussions regarding our product. We are at a crossroads in our work. Government agencies have decided to take greater steps to monitor and track our individual efforts. One hundred and seventeen nations have come out against what we do." Lars directed our attention to the screen and listed the nations who were opposed to our work. 

"While most governments disapprove," he began again, "they have no way to effectively track or deal with our business model. Indeed, missing people have simply become a fact of life in most major cities. With that said, even government will eventually get their act together, and the threat of that has kept our opportunities small, but manageable. It has come a time for us to begin to recognize both our vulnerabilities and our potential opportunities that could come from our pooling our efforts. It is also time to talk about some of the newest capabilities taking place in the world of software." 

Lars turned back to the monitor behind him and the screen lit up with three words I had come to hate so much. 'Privacy is dead.' 

"Ironic isn't it. These three words ushered in a new age in communication a few years ago when social media was becoming the future of human communication. People were told they did not need to be private any longer. 'Share yourselves with the world, place your photos online, talk about where you're going, tell everyone what you're doing once you get there.' These words were uttered by privacy pundits everywhere and people believed it. No greater bounty has come our way since the invention of the handcuff and the taser. With the tools of social media, we can effectively transform our industry in ways scarcely conceived of at the turn of the century when the term 'shanghai' was used to describe our early twenty century habit of acquiring 'manual labor.'" 

Using his remote, Lars turned on a video feed of a techno-geek in a lab with six monitors, assorted computers on the floor and a central screen that used a gloved interface. Nice, kind of geeky. The room was dark and the images on the side windows were of a variety of data streams from a number of modern social media programs. 

"This is our future." Lars waved his hands expansively toward the screen and the technician raised his hand without turning around as if to say he was aware of our existence. "Imagine, if you will, the ability to have a client request a particular desire." 

On the right side of the display, a number of older men's faces appeared, with the occasional woman's face appearing among them. The technician then moved to the left side of the screen displays and air-typed a command. "Let's start with a client searching for a subject who is sixteen to twenty-five, fair skinned, dark haired, middle America, five feet, five inches to five feet ten inches. Our technical staff would access the largest social media tools and having written a series of programs that query the site, can pull approximately sixteen thousand names matching those criteria across the United States. He would then parse the list, reducing low quality subjects, or subjects whose criteria would put them on the periphery of desirability. The second pass would reduce the number of potentials to two thousand. He would then look for subjects who could meet any extenuating desires of the clients such as linguistic expertise, cultural awareness, or extraordinary physical attributes. This reduces the list from two thousand to two hundred. The remaining two hundred would then be cross-referenced with a list of 'acquisition agents' who are all vetted and experienced in collecting subjects. The collection agents locations or travel radii would determine the suitability of the subjects, as well as outstanding bulletins  which would reduce an areas potential, depending on the effectiveness of the local constabulary." 

Bringing the audience back to him for a moment he dims the display and turns back to facing the audience. He began, "At this point we have not even ventured out of the office yet and have already been able to search through a pool of thousands of prospective subjects who have all willingly given out everything we need to be able to find them, monitor their activity, their physical location during the course of a day and what their habits, entertainments, and filial relationships might be. Photographs of their cars reveal their home via a quick DMV scan. Geotagging their photos gives us a pattern of potential locations and with a couple of days of regular tracking we can begin to set up a pickup point. We can scout locations ahead of time to ensure no effective security cameras or personnel will be in the area when we are ready to pickup." 

On the monitor, we are watching as our technician has been watching his custom designed data engine propagate potential points of retrieval from a subjects geomapped information from social media tags, text messages, and photos, and cross-referencing against a map of citywide surveillance. Three different blind locations are available and set along with the subject scans, a variety of photographs to potential clients who might be interested and a cost to acquire and ship the subject. 

Lars looks back to address the room. "What makes this set of new opportunities most appealing is the data being collected is in the public domain, so we are not forced to randomly appropriate subjects, risking surveillance, accidents or dumb luck. Using this process, we will eliminate any random chance by planning far ahead enough and leaving no incriminating clues. Yes, the local governments are also trying to use social media to understand and potentially track subjects who could be criminals, but what they are looking for is almost impossible for people to be able pick out of the background noise of our world. We have a major advantage, we know what we are looking for. They don't realize we can change our selection process, targets, locations, and methodologies. Constantly rotating, we would make it difficult for them to get a pattern." 

Turning off the monitor and turning up the lights, Lars smiles a gleaming white band of teeth and says "Hah? What do you think of that? Can you see the potential? Last year, we unofficially made approximately $32 billion, by the estimates of the FBI. Our numbers indicate we were able to make twice that easily. With the continued development of our social media tools, which give greater and greater veracity to the information being collected, plus with our recent technological acquisition  of software and technicians, many of whom were once on the government payrolls before being thrown to the wolves, we have the potential to triple our numbers without any increased sense of risk on our parts. Clients from the developed world fetch the highest prices. With social media only growing more prevalent, it is only a matter of time until the next generation doesn't even know or care what the word privacy means." 

Lars tossed the remote to someone in the orchestra pit and turn again to the crowd. "We will be breaking into smaller groups in just a few minutes, many of them will have conversations discussing in greater detail how each individual process will be integrated into the greater whole. We invite anyone who is interested in further opportunities with this new process to begin to sign up for the coursework and head to the forum areas to continue their training. I expect our new year to be prosperous. Remember those three words that have changed our methodology and will make us richer than we have ever imagined." 

A man dressed in dark clothing is seen coming through the back door of the stage, dragging a blond young woman about eighteen years of age. Her face is immediately familiar and I get a sick feeling as I realized who she was. She is being half dragged, half carried to the center of the stage. She was every bit as beautiful as her photos suggested. "To show you the speed and effectiveness of our new process, this young woman was picked out before this seminar started, right here in the Bay Area. From start to finish, the entire operation once the technical aspects were done, was less than an hour. She has been plucked right out of her day and will not be missed for nearly six hours. She will be on her way to Hong Kong in less than four. I hope this presentation has been informative. My name is Lars Ulfrich, thank you for coming." 

The room was dead silent as he dragged the girl away. The hungry stares of the audience seemed to drink in her pain and suffering. Then she whimpered for just a second, a sad sound. If I had a heart it would have been breaking right then. I looked away in shame.

Then the lights went out indicating the end of the presentation. The applause was deafening.

Dark Harvest © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved

     As the Darkside Universe is set in past, present and slightly into the future of modern times, and that the novels are geared for a general readership of mixed racial makeup, I have a question for discussion.

     In the first installment, Discovery, I tell the story of what happens in the United States when the country discovers Black folks have been secretly living on the backside of the moon since before Neil Armstrong arrived (there went the neighborhood).

     What I have done to keep the story narrative race-neutral, and non-confrontational/judgmental I have not capitalized the word black in the novel's narrative unless it's a specific reference to "Black America" and the like.

     The question is, how do other writers feel about my doing so to engender more popular appeal? 

WmH

From Greg Laden's Blog: Evolution of the Moon

"Black writers, of whatever quality, who step outside the pale of what black writers are supposed to write about, or who black writers are supposed to be, are condemned to silences in black literary circles that are as total and as destructive as any imposed by racism." ~ Audre Lorde

 Is the Film industry ready for a Black Female Syfy Action Hero ?

      I submitted two short stories that I have been working on for the last month. In "Zambeto" I played with the standard idea of two worlds: the world that we live in and a mystical African world. For the second story "Kokopelli" I reversed this. Both stories feature a black woman central character, both draw on real mythological creatures for inspiration. 

      "Zambeto" is a helpful spirit akin to the boogie man in Benin, West Africa. Here are some clips from  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c95IAxGRUSA and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3Up4br89lQ&feature=related . An alternative spelling is Zangbeto. My sister, Shawna Holbrook, was an IFESH volunteer in Benin for three years (www.ifesh.org). In 2001, we visited her and I was introduced to the Zambeto. There was a special room in the central market where she lived where the Zambeto costume was kept. I got to inspect the costume but couldn't touch it. One night when we were out at a restaurant we could hear the eerie music that was played when the Zambeto was roaming. We went in the opposite direction so I didn't get to see the Zambeto in action. 

     "Kokopelli" is a spirit deity from the American Southwest. He is a trickster and a fertility God. His image is found in many rock art sites, some nice examples are on this website http://www.real-dream-catchers.com/Kokopelli_Project/kokopelli_legend.htm. Notice his erection which has been removed in the numerous commercial items that feature Kokopelli today. Living in Tucson, Kokopelli is everywhere. My daughter has a pair of Kokopelli socks! Ok, I admit that I bought them for her. To see the modern (and sanitized) Kokopelli get on images.google.com and type in Kokopelli. 

      In Zambeto, rather than being a person wearing a mask, the Zambeto is a real creature that visits the world that we live in. The heroine has to send the Zambeto back to its own world. Kokopelli is also real, but in the world the heroine lives in such things are normal. Kokopelli helps the heroine transition to the other world, our world.

      Zambeto I submitted to Milton Davis for his Griot: Sword and Soul anthology. Kokopelli I submitted for the next edition of Genesis the Black Science Fiction anthology. I think the deadline for each is the end of April. I will know in a couple of months if either have been accepted for publication. 

"To boldly go where no man has gone before." TOS, images wiki

Physics arXiv:
Dispelling the myth of robotic efficiency: why human space exploration will tell us more about the Solar System than will robotic exploration alone,
Ian A. Crawford, Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Birkbeck College London

The Dead War Series: Safe Zone a Dead War Short Story. Free at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007PVBKP6 

The war against the dead rages on. Sergeant Richards and other scouts have been very busy as army brass is planning something big. They have been working for hours without any sleep. A near death encounter forces Richards to get some rest in a "safe zone". Once there he realizes that there may be something worse than the dead. Despair. 

Hiya Society!

If you don't follow the chat room here you're missing out.  Anyhow one of the regulars has challenged the writers to produce a 300 word short story per day with a beginning middle and end.  I'm not a writer but I do like to have fun, and since I can't support one a day I thought I'd do a serial thing with an installment every week.  One of the things Thad and some of the hermanos in the chat room have already suggested is formatting, and I'm hoping this is a better effort.  Anyhow it starts with a song!

“Red solo cup, I’ll fill you up, let’s have a party, let’s have a party”
You can get the damndest country songs stuck in your head hanging around with white friends, and growing up just outside of Ft. Sill Oklahoma a little black boy doesn't have many choices and the Indians are on the reservation.

Sport and I met when I was 13. Moms moved us back to Oklahoma to be next to Master Sergeant Grampa U.S. Army Retired and the pee wee football coach discovered I’d arrive at the ball hard and fast while Sport would get there fast and hard. I love that fool like people love brothers they don’t have to live with, like someone comfortable even though he is a country fuck.

When he called me that Saturday morning talking about going noodling I knew I had other things to do. Grampa said he was going to kick my ass if I didn’t get the pole barn put up on his land out the other way, but his threats usually came with a smile and I got things done anyhow even if it wasn’t on his time so I let him talk me into it without having to talk about my Momma.

You could always hear Sport coming even before you saw him and that’s even if he wasn’t saddled up to Miss Chatelaine his overly loud F-150 but when he was in her the next county could. Black folks aint the only ones who like loud music, but the difference is in the bass and not the guitar.

Sport got to the little trailer I stay in on Gramps land far enough away for privacy but close enough for dinner right as the sun was rising. Miss Chatelaine loud as ever would have brought gramps out with one of his guns if I were any closer.
“S’up Soul Brother”
“S’up Sport”
we said repeating the greeting that we’d shared a million times before.

Sport’s actual name was Hartwell Carver and his family had been in Oklahoma since they first shot the gun to let the White man carve out sections of it for their very own. We were going to go to one of the many little lakes that dot the landscape that was on one of his uncle’s stakes.
“Soul Brother where’s beer?”
Sport didn't have many words but the ones he spoke had meaning.
“Yeah Sport grab the cooler, but us a case on ice before the stores closed last night. Was gonna take it to the head myself putting up the pole barn but I ‘spect there’s enough to share with yo ass”.

I don’t know how people go hungry in Oklahoma when there is noodling. It’s all about holes and you don’t even need bait, hell you’re the bait. You get yourself down in the muddy water and kind of bob along the banks looking for a hole. In a good 3 out of 5 of those things you can find a throwback creature that was going to be the star of my apology to Grampa the good out the frying pan 45 pound catfish. Just bob along the bank stick your foot in wait for him to bite it with that sandpaper mouth of his and yank his behind on out.

Sport and I filled up Ms. Chatelaine with the cooler and all the gear we’d need in ourselves and headed out before 7 in the morning had really got there stopped by the local McDonalds for 8 mcmuffins apiece as a light snack and headed for the spot. Sport had the ability to take a sandwich in multiples and had downed all 8 by the time we got to turn off the highway and the bare road that led to the lake I still had 3 left I’d leave in Ms. Chatelaine and let Sport try and talk me out of later.

“Sport I can’t take this sad shit anymore let a brother start the day undepressed”
he was feeling cool that day cause he let me without bitching and soon as I reached down into my backpack to pull out some ¾ beat BOOM both of us hit our heads on the roof as Miss Chatelaine bucked.
“The fuck Sport how many times we been down this road for you to be hitting bumps and shit”
“Ayup twernt no bump”
Sport said rubbing the contact on his head like it felt good.
“Well whatever, dude watch that”
he answered with the national gesture of Sportania his middle finger.

I hoped out of Miss Chatelaine to open the gate to the last quarter mile or so to the lake we were fishing in and let Sport drive on up. I wanted to get a little warm up in before we hoped in that cold water so I jogged the last bit in. By the time I got to the bank Sport had already cracked a beer and tossed me one.  I chugged it down without taking a breath and we both jumped in the water. No need to torture yourself with tippy toeing in better to take the bull by the horns.

Bobbing in the water is pleasant. The Oklahoma sun is plenty hot and it does shine through the water but the water is so cool we played like hippos regulating our temperature by either stooping down or standing up as the day demanded.

Sport got lucky in his first few holes and pulled out fish that would satisfy both our families before 1 o’clock. Me I couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the one I saw plus when he bit me he rubbed my knuckles so raw I actually yelped. Wasn’t fun hearing Sport tease me about my bitchiness but damn it hurt. We had just got done sitting on a bank about half a mile from Ms. Chatelaine arguing over who was going to have to lug the fish back when I felt it. Felt like a current, but this lake was one of the ones hooked up to the Ogallala aquifer it didn’t have a river to feed it that was above ground, but dang I could feel a pull. Round about that time the pull started to get strong enough for even Sport to notice it and we stared at each other and jumped the fuck out.

It was an amazing sight. The middle of the lake started to whip up like one of Momma’s lemon chiffon toppings accompanied by a sort of hum. Sport and I headed back for the truck forgetting about the catch he’d worked so hard to pull out of them holes and as we were jogging back to the car the lake started to hum some more, like a negro spiritual being sung by a fog horn on crack it hummed.

We got on Miss Chatelaine climbed up on her roof and spied the lake which had moved from lemon pie to crashing half a mile wide whirl pool. The water was angry and heading elsewhere and for half an hour we watched it saying very little beyond “dayum” then it was over. Lake Get Us Some Fish was empty as a whores heart and not near as pretty. All I got out of Sport for the next 10 minutes of staring was
 “Sheeite”