Compendium

The reading went off without a hitch...well without a major hitch. Couple of stumbles (primarily due to lighting and my need for a new spec. prescription.) I didn't read anything too dirty (the bath house and sodomy sonnets stayed at home) but the crowd responded well overall. It helped focus me on some weak points in poems and showed me that some things work better than I've thought. There's some talk of a return engagement in the fall when college kids are in town.

The organizer wants to mix sets of live music with sets of live poetry primarily to move audience members in and out of their comfort zones. I think this is a grand idea--it's something I really believe in aesthetically. I hope this takes off. There are a number of poets in the area, but not a lot of activity where we can go out and read and support one another--a series like this could really strengthen the community, especially since we're a disparate bunch of writers who seem to work solitarily.

~*~

I was cruised by a man on a bicycle today while straightening and tending trees at work. Very creepy honestly. He stops and makes small talk, asking me about the particular tree I'm working on (a weeping pussy willow), how it was developed etc etc. I'm only halfway paying attention, trying to be polite but not exactly encouraging further convo. while trying to figure out angles and things to stake the trees upright so they don't interfere with drivers' sight lines, turning out of the parking lot into traffic.

He compliments the current owners of the property on their efforts, the quality of the restaurant, etc etc. Then he starts talking at length about lacking a "dining companion" and about how uncomfortable it is to go places (movies, restaurants) alone. He seemed oblivious to how uncomfortable his entire line of patter was. It was more than a little interesting to notice how he'd move in and out of conversational modes, trying to feel me out, being a little coarse one minute, then showing varying levels of sophistication, trying to find the right note to draw me in. Even if I wasn't dating somebody I wouldn't have been interested...totally not my type. Like I said, creepy and a little sad.

~*~

The transplanted butterfly weed is going like gangbusters--no drooping or anything. I now know the trick for transplanting. It's too bad there was only the single clump in the meadow.
Everything else seems to be resisting the insane heat and doing well. The tomatoes are popping out tiny green babies. It seems a bit early to me, but this growing season has been awfully strange.

T-Minus 6 Hours and Something

Until tonight's reading. I'm anxious. I'm sure I'll be fine once I get there--it's a bar so if my nerve fails, I know the Jameson's and water rocks won't. Poems are picked (I have a rough idea of ordering but will wait til a little bit before I go to finalize), outfit's picked (this has always been very important to me) and I'm anxious to roadtest some of these new poems.

Grab Bag

Sadly, the waste of space neighbors have transferred the miraculous escape cows to new quarters. I'm sure they'll work their magic in that enclosure as well; those instances just won't be as likely to interfere with my life.

~*~

I'll be doing a short reading at a joint here on Tuesday night at 9:00ish. I'm working out a list of pieces now. I've not read publicly for a couple of years. Should be fun once I get over the nerves.

~*~

I was mistaken in an earlier post. Only one poem's found a home so far.

~*~

Too hot to do much of anything.

Hmmmm

Today's horoscope has solved the problem of what I'm wearing to dinner tonight. Thank you, constellations

Costume yourself before leaving the house today. Forget that earth-toned wallpaper you call your wardrobe. This is a day for sparkles, feathers and fur. Rock on little cowgirl.

I went with blue because it brings out my eyes--

red just made me look trampy.

And I found these panties!

Paris in Prison

One of the earliest ways I really learned to write and manipulate language was by doing song parodies to amuse myself. It cued me in to the possibilities of sound over sense. Anyway--this parody of Paris' "Stars are Blind" is really one of the best I've encountered in a long time.

Currant Events

A friend gave me a small currant bush which I finally found space to inter. It's going to be a while before it bears fruit but I can't wait. We had a row of three bushes when I was a kid. I loved going out in summer and picking the little red clusters and popping them in my mouth, bursting them against the palate with my tongue. So tart and almost astringent. I'm not sure if they'll have the same appeal as a grown-up, but I'm going to try.

~*~

Went traipsing through the meadow today with the spade and wheelbarrow, digging up large clumps of butterfly weed before the field's mowed for hay. I'm hoping that harvesting in a sizable clump and just sinking them into the garden as is will allay the transplanting problems I've had in the past with them. Related to milkweeds, they have a deep taproot that doesn't like being disturbed. We'll see how it goes. I've tried to establish them several times in the past with no luck, both by seed and by transplant. This just may be one I have to give up on.

Meme-tastic

Via Pamela and Peter I give you the scattergories meme.

Your name: RJ G.
A Country: Romania
Song Title: Rock Lobster
An Artist: Robert Rauschenberg (ok...yea...I'm stick with the alliterative qualities too.)
A Reason to Stay Home from Work or School: Rest & Relaxation
Something you'd see at a Zoo: Red Uakari Monkey
A Snack: Rice Cakes
A Character in a Book: Roderick Usher
Something Icky: Regurgitated pet food
A Six-letter Word: Rubric
Something Breakable: Rules
Non-Alcoholic Drink: Red Bull
Something you Whisper: "Right now."

This Biz We Call Po'

This week has been crazy and good lord it's only Wednesday. It's been a cycle of work, home, rehearsal, home. No real time to do more than cursory reads of blogs or news or email. I feel dreadfully uninformed. But I've been jotting down random lines and images like crazy. I've taken to carrying a pocket sized notebook and pen(cil) with me at work. It always seems to happen this way--I get a block of unoccupied time and I think: great, I'll write and work on some poems. The time comes, I sit down, nothing comes. When I'm seriously overprogrammed though, that's when the new work starts pouring out. I'm not complaining, mind...just noting.

~*~

Poems have found homes. Huzzah. More info. once I know more myself. I'm very pleased, one is an oldy that I've always loved but was never sure of.

Separated at Birth

Postcards from the Edge

I love when my friends travel--especially when they decide to send postcards or pictures. It's interesting to note that they never really send things like pictures of cityscapes at night, grand landmarks, or those sorts of things. Nope--not my friends--they really seem to think of me when they correspond. They send me things like this:

from Holly, Greece and the Mediterranean, 1995

or this:

from Minda, Greece, 2003

or this:

from Ashlee, Belgium, 2007

And of course they don't just send me examples of statuary and fine art--they also share their nature snaps.

West Virginny Chainsaw Masacre

Thursday night's read-through was...um...well...let's go with an anagram shall we?...SERF CUT LUCK.

Although scheduled to begin at 6:00, key people (like ooooh, the director and two of the leads) weren't there until after 7:30 (one didn't show at all.) Tons and tons of bloviating just so people can hear themselves speak. No cast lists to help identify who's who (minor quibble maybe, but it would've made the reading much simpler if we could've known who we had on hand and who we needed to fill in for when their lines came up). Honestly...I'm set for a full on screaming diva blowup if this sort of thing continues...and since it's been par for the course so far...I see no reason to believe it won't.

~*~

The tomatoes are growing marvelously so far, a few early blooms popping up here and there. Trying to get caught up this weekend on my own weeding and trimming--so much to do that I honestly don't know where to start. The rains have sent everything into overdrive. My acidanthera and tigridia bulbs are growing madly and I love them for cut flowers. The seedlings are thriving but I've now lost my little planting plot to the bed so I don't know what's what...I'm pretty sure there are some weeds creeping in there but for now I'll leave them be--just until I know exactly what I'm dealing with. I'm thinking of hitting the nursery this week and grabbing 4 or 5 things to fill in there just in case I'm looking at more weeds than flowers.

I have all the stuff I need for the decoy garden--straw to mulch, kale seed, turnip seed and rutabaga seed. (FYI--you can fit one bale of commercially prepared straw into the hatchback of a Ford Focus ZX3.) As soon as it's dried off I'll go out and cut the grass down to the ground, rake it up and broadcast. It's going in near the edge of the meadow as far away from the tomatoes and herbs as I can get it. This seems a good plan--yesterday afternoon I saw a young buck grazing in the meadow about 20 yards from where I plan to plant. If I can keep them drawn to that part of the property it's all to the good. I might check into putting a salt lick out there just to make sure they're attracted.

~*~

I learned to operate a chainsaw this morning. Frightening. A friend asked me to do some trimming and maintenance on shrubs and things near her house next week. She also wants a large (and invasive) rose of sharon removed. I found someone willing to loan me the 'saw and teach me how to use it. All I kept thinking was--don't cut off your leg. I'm not sure if I can muster the testicular fortitude to carry through with this. I'm pretty confident that if you haven't used a chainsaw by the time you turn 30, you probably never should.

Neologism of the Day

masochismo (mas-uh-chiz—moh, mæs ətʃɪzmoʊ)–noun

gratification or pleasure gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, as a result of one's own strong or exaggerated sense of manliness, virility, or competence, esp. the tendency to seek this form of gratification by overscheduling one’s time. Feel free to work into your everyday usage.

Okay. Well, Then.

Today's Horoscope for Leos:

Today you'll be forced to ask yourself if you're really doing all you can in this lifetime. The answer will probably be the same old resounding no, but you'll remain confused about how to remedy it.

Stampede

So the waste of space neighbors had another (multiple) cow break out this morning. As I was trying to drive to work. There they were: three surly calves traipsing along the road. I slowed to a crawl and thought I would be able to squeak by them. As if.

They began running ahead of me, veering back and forth. One brown bastard turned and was about to charge my car. The only thing I thought was no...wait til it's paid off...sweet jesus.

Finally one of the ridiculous slope headed people who works for the wos neighbors comes running and herds the calves back into their enclosure. You see, the calves can walk BETWEEN the strands of barbed wire. Very effective.

This has been the third escape since May. I only learned about the second one a day ago. That escapee wrecked another neighbor's yard and mock oranges--totally snapped them off and tromped things down. Was there an apology? An offer to replace or pay for the damaged plants? What do you think?

Sadly, all my efforts to google "fat man with a mullet in a camel light tee shirt and feed cap" or any of its permutations turned up nothing. I really wish I could've snapped some photos of this prize in action. I bet some of you singles out there would have begged for his contact info. He was poetry in motion. It actually made the whole ludicrous experience worth it. Of course it would've been better if he'd gotten kicked or fallen in a fresh cow flop, but ya can't have everything.

South Pacific

Ray Walston as Luther Billis in South Pacific

Just got the call about my role for South Pacific.

I'm going to play Luther Billis. I'm not sure if my hometown is ready for me to be goin round on stage with my shirt open...but I guess I'll be doing a lot of cardio, push ups and crunches over the next 7 weeks.

There's a lot of fun here I think--a) fake tattoo of a ship on my stomach (if you look closely at the pic of Ray Walston above you can juuuuust make out part of it) (I'm far more delighted/amused by this than Brian is.) b) a musical number wearing a coconut bra and grass skirt (again, I'm more amused) and c) well...I'll get back to you about c.

Now...what do I do about the nipple ring?

What Immoral Hand or Eye

Generally when I do this, it's an eruption of contempt and sheer bitchiness. In this case it's all love and admiration.

Sarah Silverman

plus



Divine


equals


Amy Winehouse

Spotlight

The daylilies are going nuts. There's going to be a profusion of blooms this summer judging by the buds they've shot up. A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a friend about them and she said "They're really almost vulgar when they're happy." Indeed--and I'm fine with that.

I might've mocked the name, but Bug-Geta is effective. (Note to Pamela: I've tried the beer approach in the past with no success--my dog Bella also likes beer, it seems. BTW--regarding roses...have you ever tried spent teabags broken up and scattered around? They're also good for other acid loving plants--ferns especially--but I've seen good results with a few of the old fashioned roses I got from my grandmother's place.)

Some of the tomatoes are blooming. I'm going to sow some turnip and kale seed this weekend on the far side of the property as a decoy garden for deer. It's near the fruit trees (which I never harvest b/c generally the fruit's mealy and hard) and they feed out there through the summer anyway. I'm curious to see how well this tactic works. A few online organic gardening places swear by it as do a few of my friends.

I've been strafed twice today by hummingbirds while working in the yard. This happened last week as well when I was working in the same spot. Curious.

~*~

Auditions went well last night . I did my thing and it's now out of my hands. I should know the casting decision tonight. There were a lot of good people and a fair amount of silliness and hamming around in the down times.

~*~

The "long poem" is cooking along. Four sections are done...or nearly so...but of course by done I mean "worked to a point that I'm not embarrassed by them". The process feels good...no clue what's really happening here...just writing and cutting and playing...feeling my way through the dark.

Are You a Hypochondriac?

Take a quiz here and find out.

Hitting the Boards

Last night was the first set of auditions for the community theatre's summer production of South Pacific. I hemmed and hawed about auditioning--mainly because I knew I was going to be gone for a week during production and I just hate doing that. I got an ok from the powers that be about the absence and went.

It was fun--a little singing, a little cold line reading, a little choreography (not so fun for me), a little catch up with people I only seem to see during the summer shows. This will be my (gasp) 20th year with the group.

I was haunted throughout auditions by a line from Aaron's poem "Casino Royale 2006" in the new MIPOesias...it's hard to sing "Nothin' Like a Dame" when a) you don't really believe that and b) you have the phrase "veiny/ and strange" running through your head. Lots of good stuff there if you've not checked it out yet.

I have to report back for more auditioning tonight.

Separated at Birth

Donatella Versace,
designer, jetsetter, collagen addict

AND



Janice,
guitarist for Dr. Teeth & the Electric Mayhem

Still Love You Like That, Da Da Da Da

Finally we've gotten a few rains. Huzzah. No need to keep lugging around the portable sprayer. The downside is I've found myself wandering about the house singing "Here Comes the Rain Again" to myself in my best Elmer Fudd voice (which, honestly, is not that good.)

~*~

Went to see Knocked Up with my friend Eric yesterday. Funny flick. Well, there was one bit that I had to cover my eyes for. Some great ad-libbed bits between Seth Rogan and Paul Rudd (not as funny as the "You know how I know you're gay" bits from 40 Year Old Virgin but funny.) Equally funny was the senior couple who were at the end of our row. It's a little odd listening to a man old enough to be your grandfather explaining what a "BJ" is to a woman old enough to be your grandmother. Funny enough that I wasn't pissed at them for being loud.

~*~

One batch of poems submitted this weekend. Hoping to get the next batch out by the end of the week. The long poem has a title (which will most likely be changed by the time it's finished) and is proceeding...slowly.

~*~

Have decided to gird up my loins and battle the slugs this summer. They're always about but I usually leave them be. They seem really plentiful this year and are wreaking havoc in all my beds. Basil leaves like swiss cheese and all my hosta transplants look rasped. It also makes walking barefoot a dangerous prospect.

I'm trying to figure out the least harmful way to kill them...I don't want to kill any of the other beneficial critters who live in the beds, but surely, the slugs must die. I went to a couple of the garden centers looking for bait, killers, whatever so I could price them and see if they'd do the job just not kill everything else. In the midst of the search I found this:

I love it, Geta. Not Getr but the more urban Geta. Though I think it should be spelled "Getta." I started singing the Ini Kamoze song "Here Comes the Hotstepper" to myself in Lowe's but reworked it to being about killing slugs "Here Comes the BugGeta, murderer/ I'm the gastropod gangster, murderer" etc, etc.

Sometimes I'm too geeky to be around people.

Submission

The poems, they go out. I wait. I hate it.

Off with Their Heads!!

Totally forgot to mention this yesterday. Halfway to work there is an abandoned business just beside the highway. It's been many things over the years: laundromat; convenience store; car lot, and probably a couple of other things I've forgotten. I'm driving to work yesterday morning, talking on the cell to Brian. As I get closer to the business I notice a guy standing in the parking lot, a few feet behind a battered and bondoed sedan. He appeared to be administering a field sobriety test to himself--walking along the seams in the concrete, trying to maintain a straight line, arms held out straight from his sides.

I feel it's important to note he was wearing a white button down shirt and black shorts with a white hibiscus pattern, he also had socks pulled halfway up his calves.

~*~

People are offering to buy tomatoes from me. I find this sort of crazy when there's a great farmer's market here.

~*~

Went out to work in the yard this afternoon and found another 3 foot long snake, crossing the patch. No clue what sort. Definitely not a black snake, although it is (errr was) a blackish-brownish color with a subtle diamond pattern. I fetched the machete and played Red Queen with it. Apparently there are a lot of snakes this summer...huzzah. I found myself wishing my grandfather was still alive--he'd have known what it was. I just hope I don't run across a copperhead. Oy god. I'll scream like a girl. Might even tinkle a little.

Melange

Yesterday was crazy. The one landscaping project I've taken on is commercial-- for a restaurant/hotel here. It's great, there's diversity-- they're doing herbs, veggies, flowering plants and shrubs--it's not just dogwood, dogwood, cypress, arbor vitae stuff. It's also a fairly large property so they've got more plans for space as time goes on. I think I planted over 100 plants yesterday between that site and home. I expected to have a gardening dream a la Frost's "After Apple Picking" but I slept deeply and well; untroubled by dreams of trowelling, ferting and watering.

~*~

Across the street from the property is a halfway house...there's nothing too blogworthy yet, but I think there's potential for future crazy; I've been catching snippets of convos as I'm going about watering and weeding--it's not like I actively try to hear, but there's some loudness at that place. Today a work crew was in putting up a huge tent for an event this weekend. A couple of girls from the home decided to put on their skimpies and lay out on a blanket. They had their hip hop and reggae blaring, giggling and watching the work crew--I think all the bad tattoos reminded them of their time in stir. I was between the two groups, transplanting wild geraniums feeling like I was somehow eavesdropping.

~*~

I'll update on the funky tomatoes--I'm really curious to see how they fare, especially regarding blight and such things. If they prove to be hardy and tasty, I'll be more than happy to share seeds with any intrepid horticultural types who want em.

(Un)Intentional Irony (?)

While trying to fall asleep the other night I was flipping channels and came across the new Botox ad. It uses the song "Express Yourself" as the theme and then doubles up using "Express Yourself" as the slogan.

Uuuuummmmk.

Maters

I am obsessive when it comes to growing tomatoes (I know, I know...it's not like I'm not obsessive in other areas.) I tried my hand at it for the first time a few years ago and it's a yearly obsession now.

I'm not planting as many individual plants this year, but I'm trying a few new varieties. A local nuseryman that I've traded cuttings and plants with over the years has been getting in heirloom varieties the past couple of years and he has some interesting plants now.

Ananas Noire Whole


Ananas Noire Sliced

I picked up an Ananas Noire (Fr. for "the black pineapple") a red, green and purple/black striped beefsteak; a White Wonder beefsteak; and a Golden Gem orange sweet cherry. I still need to snag some romas and a regular beefsteak from the nursery but then I'm ready to go.

Intemperate

I'm an intemperate gardener. Some years I'm fastidious with weeding, fertilizing, pruning and deadheading. Other years I feed the plants and just allow them to grow however they will. The last couple of years, I've done the latter. I wasn't timely with separating and propagating plants so when the time came to divvy up the Hosta "Sagae", Pulmonaria "Roy Davidson," and my dwarf white Astilbe it was quite a job. They hadn't been divided in about 4 years and were huge clumps to contend with. So I took three clumps and ended up with 30 smaller ones. They're all planted now. I still have a clump of Pulmonaria "Mrs. Moon" and a peach Astilbe to divide...I shudder to think about tackling them--they're huge.

~*~

Almost everyone here calls today "Decoration Day" instead of "Memorial Day," because that's what a lot of them do--they go to the cemetery and leave flowers. Usually the local fire hall has some sort of lunch or homecoming thing set up for the out-of-towners and locals to get together and gossip or whatever they call it. I usually don't go to the cemetery today, even though it's just across the field from my place. I go later in the week when no one else is around and leave some fresh cuttings of whatever's blooming on my maternal grandparents' graves. I might have to buy cut flowers this year because aside from Spiderwort, not much else is in bloom.

An elderly couple from Ohio drove up to the house yesterday while I was in the yard. Bella, the shelter rescue wonder dog with separation anxiety issues went nuts barking; Fletcher climbed one of the maples. I was covered in filth from digging up and separating plants. They sat parked in the drive conferring for a few moments--I kept my back to them, replanting hosta. The
woman gets out of the car and says "This used to be the X homestead. My maiden name was X. Would it be okay if we walked around and took pictures--I have pictures from back when it was the X place." Actually, no; no it was not okay. This property no longer belonged to the Xs. It hadn't for at least 50 years.

They didn't say anything when I said, "no;" they just gave me a look indicating they thought I was rude and inhospitable and got in their big loud red truck and drove away. Although they were polite enough, I found the whole thing incredibly nervy and presumptuous. The property no longer belonged to a family member--whatever claim they thought they had to it was forfeited when it was sold.

Had I not been there working in the yard, I know they would have walked around and taken pictures to their hearts' contents--in short they would've reminisced and trespassed, commenting on how it all used to be, then gone to the fire hall for a nice lunch before driving back to Ohio, braking for anything even resembling a curve in the road.

When I told Brian about this today he offered to sit on the front porch in a wifebeater with a shotgun and bottle of bourbon, threatening any and all potential trespassers. Is that love or what?

~*~

Nurseries are bad places for me: too, too tempting. Today was especially rough--they got in a new delivery since I was there Saturday. So many cultivars and varieties that I wanted. So little space and cash and time.

ProFormative 2

Chales Nelson Reilly died.

That makes me sad. He was a fixture of my childhood--I loved him on Lidsville--and one of the most visible gay men on telly in the 70s. I loved game shows as a young'un--Match Game, Hollywood Squares, and The Gong Show were particular favorites. I didn't get the jokes, I never had an inkling why I liked CNR, Paul Lynde, Waylon Flowers and Madame or Jaye P. Morgan so much, but I did. I didn't enjoy those shows nearly as much when they weren't on the panels. Would anyone in their right mind prefer George Gobel or Kitty Carlisle?

When I was in grad school I was always threatening to write a series of essays about the gaying of America through game shows. I didn't recognize the panelists as gay (or myself at the time--I was barely in grade school) but I recognized that they were different and it appealed to me in a deep way. I could do without some of the camp trappings, I'll just chalk that up to a generational difference, but fundamentally they informed my sense of humor and my ideas of what's funny.

I think I'm going to check the Game Show Network and see if Match Game is on.

Because It's Sunday

It's startling what you get when you google image search with "cowboy jesus." Sadly the line art image of a bronc rider juxtaposed with the three crosses atop Calvary was unavailable.

~*~

Haven't done one of these in a while.

Is this satire? Parody?

Heliocentrism is an Atheist Doctrine

What’s even worse than the debate raging in American schools about the teaching of the soulless doctrine of evolution, is the non-debate over an issue that rational Americans have foolishly conceded to the secular among us: the issue of Heliocentrism, or the idea that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

Now, it has to be granted that there may be some mathematical evidence going either way; mathematically speaking, Copernicus may be on ground nearly as firm as that of Tycho Brahe. Right-thinking people know the correct doctrine, however:

Heliocentrism is the view that the sun is at the center of the universe. It was proposed by some ancient Greeks,[1] and became the dominant view in the 1700s and 1800s. It was abandoned in the 20th century.

Since the advent of relativity theory in the early 1900s, the laws of physics have been written in covariant equations, meaning that they are equally valid in any frame. Heliocentric and geocentric theories are both used today, depending on which allows more convenient calculations

It seems clear that it may occasionally be convenient to assume that the calculations of Copernicus and Kepler were mathematically sound. However, for both moral and theological reasons, we should always bear in mind that the Earth does not move. If it moved, we would feel it moving. That’s called empiricism, the experience of the senses. Don’t take my word for it, or the evidence of your own senses, Copernicans. There’s also the Word of the Lord:

“He has fixed the earth firm, immovable.” (1 Chronicles 16:30)

“Thou didst fix the earth on its foundation so that it never can be shaken.” (Psalm 104:5)

“The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.” (Ecclesiastes 1:5)

[snip]

I support the Bible, and I don’t want my children learning about Heliocentrism in school. I think this doctrine encourages atheism, Darwinism, and anti-Americanism. I don’t want my tax dollars going to finance this kind of false science. It’s complete rot, and I hope that those of us who come to realize this can ultimately prevail against its propogation amongst OUR children with the money from OUR salaries.

I can’t wait to hear from the moonbats and the Darwinists and the other rubes on this one, though. Go on, witch doctors. Preach to me how the planet hurtles through the ether, Scriptural and physical evidence to the contrary! Your false doctrines will be cast down on the day when America rediscovers its Christian roots. That is a promise.

Nope. It's from GOPer Sam Brownback's supporters. Praise!
There's more at the link if you can take it.

~*~

And here's an intrepid lil 8th Grader out to use a paper towel to prove part of the theory of evolution is wrong. He should be able to disprove all of it before his armpits are fully haired. He needs to team up with Mr. Anti-Heliocentrism and take over NASA.

Brian Benson, an eighth-grade student who won first place in the Life Science/Biology category for his project "Creation Wins!!!," says he disproved part of the theory of evolution. Using a rolled-up paper towel suspended between two glasses of water with Epsom Salts, the paper towel formed stalactites. He states that the theory that they take millions of years to develop is incorrect.

"Scientists say it takes millions of years to form stalactites," Benson said. "However,in only a couple of hours, I have formed stalactites just by using paper towel and Epsom Salts."

Pharyngula takes this whole bs apart here.

~*~

From the Denver Post.

Lightning damages Jesus statue

A bolt broke off an arm and a hand and damaged a foot at the Mother Cabrini Shrine in Golden. The sisters hope the 22-foot piece can be repaired.

Don't look for any religious symbolism here - it was only a freak act of Mother Nature, says Sister Ilaria.

The nuns at Mother Cabrini Shrine in Golden were thanking God on Sunday that no one was hurt when a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and struck their 33-foot statue of Jesus.

The lightning bolt broke off one of Jesus' arms and a hand and damaged one of his feet, sending marble plummeting to the ground during a Saturday afternoon storm.

"There were pilgrims up there on the hill," Sister Ilaria said. "The biggest miracle is no one got hit with the falling debris."

The statue of Jesus, which had one hand pointing to his "sacred heart" and the other outstretched, sits atop a mountain near the shrine in the foothills of Golden. Drivers on Interstate 70 can see the statue in the hills, and at night, light illuminates the white marble.

What's the difference between an act of Nature and an act of God, again? Or is your invocation of "Mother Nature" simple heresey, Sister Ilaria?

~*~

I'm Afraid of Americans, redux.

According to a new Gallup Poll, nearly 1 in 3 Americans believe that the Bible is the "literal word of God."

Yea...just gonna leave it at that.

Stuff

Bumper sticker seen: Billy Goat Gruff, Wild and Untamed.
This was on a car with some other granola-esque bumper stickers and I immediately thought it implied something about (ahem) intimate grooming. When I finally saw the person associated with said sticker my suspicions were strengthened and biases confirmed.

~*~

Pugsley Addams' cousin lives here in WV. His name is Dewey. I know because his polo shirt was monogrammed.

~*~

Why do people think Rascals are street legal? And why aren't they ticketed?

~*~

I went crazy at the nursery--scented geraniums, nettle leaved mullein, bleeding hearts (still have yet to find a white one and I must have one), vinca, jacob's ladder. I need to go back and get some million bells to fill in spacey bits of the rock garden.

I will never transplant or deal with prickly pear again. Even with gloves on I was picking teeny tiny needles from my hands for hours last night.

Separating astilbe, two pulmonaria, hosta and ferns today. I realized I missed out on separating my other bleeding hearts this year. That definitely needs doing next year. Between them and the sensitive fern in one shade bed, they're choking out other stuff.

I have a garden toad living in the semi-shade bed near the front porch. Hopefully my work there won't scare him away.

Furious Green

So much time playing in the dirt the last few days I've not felt like posting. But there's stuff upcoming tomorrow.

I've picked up a couple of landscaping projects to make some extra cash and have seen much that amuses me.

Hard to believe that I'm not burned out on digging and planting yet, but I'm strangely energized. I'm finishing up my shade bed tomorrow.

For those who are horticulturally inclined, Gurneys.com is having a crazy Memorial Day sale that ends Monday. If you're interested, leave a post in the comments and I'll give you the discount code.

On the level

I just took the Dante's Inferno Test and am a little surprised. I thought I'd be in level 4 or 8....maybe level 2...but instead I'm in 6. I never considered myself particularly heretical...it always seemed to me one needed to consciously disavow or undermine an orthodoxy to be a heretic...but who knew. Wanna see if we'll be infernal roomates? Go here.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Pro Formative

Aaron's thoughtful response to my 5 favorite songs tag reminded me that I've never blogged this.

I've mentioned my love for Annie Lennox here before, but I've never really gone into why I think she's so fabulous. Short version: Annie Lennox made me queer. Not gay in the "I like to kiss boys" sense, but queer in the "Androgyny is hot and dangerous" sense. Earlier this year I did an essay and poem about her for an anthology of gay men on their divas and I cite this performance from the 1984 Grammys as being formative.

It was--I kindasorta liked the Eurythmics before that night, but after watching their version of "Sweet Dreams" where she does her best drag--I was hooked. Something vague went off in my head and I felt connected. The discomfort and squirming my mom and sister exhibited seeing her pass as a man probably helped. Since then I've realized the value in making your audience just the teensiest bit uncomfortable and try to exploit it whenever I can.

What's fascinating to me, now, 23 years later, is that some people still don't realize it's her. Check some of the comments in the versions posted on Youtube. Really--astonishing.

Anyway, enough of this, on to the show.

Obsessive Compulsive? Moi?

I'm spiralling into the dark space with this...as soon as I had my list of 5 obsessive listens, I started doing 5 other 5s.

5 Favorite Dance Tracks

1. "Get Ur Freak On", Missy Elliot
2. "Ray of Light", Madonna
3. "Blue Monday", Orgy
4. "Milkshake", Kelis
5. "What You Waiting For", Gwen Stefani

5 Albums You've Probably Never Heard (but Should Hear)

1. The Kills, No Wow
2. Dogs Die in Hot Cars, Please Describe Yourself
3. The Futureheads, The Futureheads
4. The Arcade Fire, Funeral
5. Angela McCluskey, The Things We Do

5 Albums I Keep Repurchasing

1. Damien Rice, O
2. Radiohead, OK Computer
3. REM, New Adventures in Hi-Fi
4. David Bowie, Outside
5. Elton John, Goodbye Yellowbrick Road

5 Songs that Make Me Write

1. "Myxomatosis", Radiohead
2. "Eskimo", Damien Rice
3. "Big in Japan", Tom Waits
4. "Waiting for the Man," Velvet Underground
5. "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes," Modest Mouse

5 Favorite James Bond Themes

1. "Diamonds Are Forever", Shirley Bassey
2. "The Man with the Golden Gun", Lulu
3. "Live and Let Die", Paul McCartney and Wings
4. "A View to a Kill", Duran Duran
5. "Die Another Day", Madonna

Five

Keith tagged me to do my five favorite songs. I'm doing my five obsessive listens for the first part of '07, in no particular order.


1. Wild is the Wind--David Bowie, Station to Station
2. Bouncing off Clouds--Tori Amos, American Doll Posse
3. Leaving it up to You-- John Cale, Fragments of a Rainy Season
4. Walk Away--Tom Waits, Real Gone
5. Shores of California--Dresden Dolls, Yes, Virginia

I'm tagging Aaron and Montgomery.

Poem for the Day

From Night with Drive-by Shooting Stars


Strip
Jim Daniels

She danced in front of the window,

snowflakes glowing behind her

under the streetlight. The blue silk blouse

slipped off her arms and floated out of sight.

Black slacks into a shadow, then

the quick shiver, the beautiful awkward gesture

into nakedness. Her skin startled me--

luminous or pale, depending. We didn't know



each other well, but it was my turn,

so I raised my arms above my head

and tried to shake. We both wanted to know

something about somebody. My clothes

piled beneath me in a clump.



The striptease didn't do much

for either of us, but by then

we were chilled and fell against

each other's skin.



Snow under streetlights landed

layer upon layer.

           We fell forward,

then fell apart against the sheets,

cold again, and wet. She whispered

in my ear, and I pulled the blankets

up over us. I knew her name,

so I whispered that.

Bienvenue à la Maison des Morts

Like a Peckinpah film or one of Shakespeare's tragedies, the body count keeps rising here. Avalanche paraded around the house with a mouse he caught last night until I managed to get him scooted outside. Today he tried to tangle with a huge snake sunning itself near the meadow (it was a little over three feet long)--I ended up whacking it with the machete because neither one of them was backing down. I shudder to think what else he's going to find in the next few months. I have to give him credit--he's not afraid to tangle with something significantly bigger than he is.

~*~

Last week's rains put a damper on some of the festivities but the plants are loving it. I'm going to be spending a lot of time the next few weeks dividing hostas, ferns and lungwort to transplant.

I'm not sure when this landscaping project is ever going to be done. So much to clear out and kill that I think I'm never going to be on top of it all, much less ahead.

~*~

An entree to the long poem I've been working on has presented itself--not sure if it'll carry through all the revisions, but it's given me a way to proceed.

Dream Snippet

I totally forgot to blog this this morning.

Wednesday night I dreamt about Robert Bly. I was in an archway between two rooms and he was approaching me, wearing an embroidered vest and cravat. We walked up to one another and shook hands and I said "You're shorter than I'd imagined." He was probably 5'4" in the dream, coming up just to my collarbone.

I've never (in my memory) dreamed about another poet (that I don't know personally) and am (more than a little) surprised that he's my first. Likewise--I have no idea why he'd surface now.

What Would Eva Do?

Sunday, when we were driving back to Buckhannon, I avoided a squirrel in the road. It was hunkering and darting beside another squirrel who had not been so lucky as to avoid a car. Actually it was pretty flat--it had not avoided a lot of cars. I had to avoid the skittish, befuddled, living one. I'm not one of those people who stops and helps box turtles across the road or who'll run into the ditch to avoid a bunny; but if weather conditions allow, I'll try to veer away or brake enough to avoid killing something.

I sometimes think we're like the couple in Green Acres--he's Eva Gabor, I'm Eddie Albert. I'm pretty adaptable. I like the options of cities: the venues, the anonymity, the restaurants, the shopping. At the same time I really love the space and quiet I have here. Sometimes it's grating, but overall it's a fair trade. We drove past people I knew and without thinking I'd point them out, oddly happy seeing them out running errands or whatever on a Sunday. Unlike Eddie A, I'd never ask Brian to relocate to an area like this--it'd drive him mad, I fear. But one of the things I'm gladdest for about this visit was that he got to be with me and some of my favorite people and see that part of my life.

~*~

Last night before bed I heard a thumping and clanking on the front porch. I knew it wasn't my critters, because they were all inside, bedded down and sleeping. I went to the door and turned on the light and there, rattling about the kibble and water bowls (during the late spring and summer I leave a few bowls out for the cats and dogs, because they're outside as much they're in) was a sizeable possum. It lurched off the porch and ran its odd jerky run off through the ferns toward the meadows. Hideous little beasts. I'll start bringing the kibble in at night because I don't want repeat visits.

Every time I see a possum I think of Gerald Stern's "Behaving Like a Jew" from Lucky Life.

Behaving Like A Jew

When I got there the dead opossum looked like
an enormous baby sleeping on the road.
It took me only a few seconds – just
seeing him there – with the hole in his back
and the wind blowing through his hair
to get back again into my animal sorrow.
I am sick of the country, the bloodstained
bumpers, the stiff hairs sticking out of the grilles,
the slimy highways, the heavy birds
refusing to move;
I am sick of the spirit of Lindbergh over everything,
that joy in death, that philosophical
understanding of carnage, that
concentration on the species.
--- I am going to be unappeased at the opossum’s death.
I am going to behave like a Jew
and touch his face, and stare into his eyes,
and pull him off the road.
I am not going to stand in a wet ditch

with the Toyotas and the Chevies passing over me
at sixty miles an hour
and praise the beauty and the balance
and lose myself in the immortal lifestream
when my hands are still a little shaky
from his stiffness and his bulk
and my eyes are still weak and misty
from his round belly and his curved fingers
and his black whiskers and his little dancing feet.

Back

Back to normal life now--the strawberry festivities are over; back to sleeping alone and not having breakfast with Brian; back to planting and feeding and mulching and weeding; back to working on the poems and seeing how to make them live.

~*~

It was a very full four days for Brian's visit. He pointed out that in Baltimore I'm usually really content to stay around the apartment and just do not much of anything. This is true--I do prefer staying in and keeping to myself. But this weekend I wanted to be social. I wanted to be out and see people and eat too much, drink too much, laugh and walk around. And we managed that.

~*~

I picked up the new Bjork album on Thursday--it's sort of a "meh" experience. I want to like it...I just don't, really. Not sure if this is something that'll grow on me or if I'll not even try future listens. I knew I should've bought the latest Modest Mouse.

What I'm Listening To

There's a bit of doggerel in Stephen King's Misery that has stuck in my head since I read the book eons ago: Annie the mom, Annie the goddess, when Annie's around you better stay honest; that's always somewhere in the back of my mind when Annie Lennox is involved.

Yeesh...

Palate Cleansers

Now that all that other stuff is outta my system here's some pop culture fluff for y'all.

In the grand (?) tradition of miniKiss, the Misfats and AC/DShe there's now Mini-Britney!

Terra Jole is a 26-year-old 4'2" little person who tours the country doing a 45-60 minute show as Britney. (I am refraining from taking any of Mrs. Federline's song titles and using size-ist puns for a punch line, but trust me, I have a few.) The Mini Britney link above is to DListed.com which has video of Terra in action.
(hat-tip to Brian)

~*~

Earlier I posted a L'il Kim video. As much as I love Kim, I'm crazy about Missy Elliot. I love "I'm Really Hot" from This Is Not a Test. Enjoy.

Kill Bill + subtitles + full-face makeup + krumping= Genius

My favorite lyric from the song?

Look,let me move to the left
Go head, let me feel myself
Touch my chest my sweat
Show that d.j. how I shake my breasts
Jiggle,jiggle,jangle
Watch how my gluteus dangle
I do a 1-2 step,STOP
No, I ain't done yet.

Pardon Me While I Choke On My Own Vomit

Apparently other [republican] people feel differently about Rev. Jerry's passing. From Newsday:

"Jerry has been a tower of strength on many of the moral issues which have confronted our nation." -- evangelist Pat Robertson.

"Dr. Falwell's shadow falls across the face of the rebirth of conservative values in our nation, in the Southern Baptist Convention, and in the entire evangelical world. Only once in a generation will a man of his stature arise. We all owe him a debt of eternal gratitude." -- Paige Patterson, president of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas.

"An American who built and led a movement based on strong principles and strong faith has left us. He will be greatly missed, but the legacy of his important work will continue through his many ministries where he put his faith into action." -- Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney.

"Dr. Falwell was a man of distinguished accomplishment who devoted his life to serving his faith and country. Our thoughts and prayers are with Dr. Falwell's family at this difficult time." -- Republican presidential candidate and Sen. John McCain.

"His life is a testament not only to the power of faith to move hearts, but to the strength of the American ethos that stresses the importance of citizenship ... He was a great leader, a person totally sustained by his faith but able to work with many people from many different backgrounds without imposing rigidity on anyone else." -- Former U.S. House Speaker Newt Gingrich.

I'm speechless.

No...no...wait...it's coming to me...

So Much Crazy II: Dead White Bigot Edition

Hey--didja hear? Jerry Falwell died. I was imed that three times in less than 2 minutes.

And I've been scolded twice for being less than gracious regarding his passing.

The fact that such a hateful man (he did, after all, make Larry Flynt look sympathetic) could wrap himself in "god" and attain national prominence and influence is a surer sign of moral paucity and societal backsliding than a couple of leather bears kissing while a flotilla of drag queens toss rubbers from sparkly floats. The sad truth is his passing means nothing. His death, like the death of single termite, merely creates space for another just like him to take his place.

Some of his greatest hits:

I do not believe that God answers the prayer of any unredeemed Gentile or Jew.

After the September 11, 2001, attacks Falwell said on the 700 Club, "I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'" ( PatRobertson concurred).

I listen to feminists and all these radical gals - most of them are failures. They've blown it. Some of them have been married, but they married some Casper Milquetoast who asked permission to go to the bathroom. These women just need a man in the house. That's all they need. Most of the feminists need a man to tell them what time of day it is and to lead them home. And they blew it and they're mad at all men. Feminists hate men. They're sexist. They hate men - that's their problem.

The true Negro does not want integration...He realizes his potential is far better among his own race...We see the hand of Moscow in the background...We see the Devil himself behind it...It will destroy our race eventually...In one northern city, a pastor friend of mine tells me that a couple of opposite race live next door to his church as man and wife ...It boils down to whether we are going to take God's Word as final

Herpes, AIDS, venereal diseases ... are a definite form of the judgment of God upon a society.

Homosexuality is Satan's diabolical attack upon the family that will not only have a corrupting influence upon our next generation, but it will also bring down the wrath of God upon America.


AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals.

AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals.

If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.

Textbooks are Soviet propaganda.

I truly cannot imagine men with men, women with women, doing what they were not physically created to do, without abnormal stress and misbehavior.

I think the Moslem [sic] faith teaches hate.

Falwell tells a pastors' conference in Kingsport, Tenn., that the Antichrist prophesied in the Bible is alive today and "of course he'll be Jewish."

[Tinky Winky] is purple - the gay-pride color; and his antenna is shaped like a triangle - the gay-pride symbol.

I hope I live to see the day when, as in the early days of our country, we won't have any public schools. The churches will have taken them over again and Christians will be running them. What a happy day that will be.

Update: Montgomery Maxton commemorates JF's passing in high style.
Update the Second: more can be found here.

So Much Crazy

Ach. I've finally settled down enough to make a half-assed pass at an entry. I feel like I've been playing catch-up since the end of March and am only now finally getting there. My shoulder feels great and has held up well to the increased manual labor. I've gotten a lot done but there's more to do. I'd wanted to be ahead by today--but that's not happening. Weed whacking and some planting to be done that I'll tackle once it's cooler. I got a small gash in my palm yesterday that makes me psycho-leary to do any digging, unless I wear gloves. Sometime in the last couple of weeks I came across a reference to a gaseous gangrene that can be picked up from microbes in the soil. I'm now convinced that if I dig around I'll get it. I never used to be like this...but it's happening more frequently now. I hate to wear gloves when I garden...it just feels clumsy and I like the gritty feeling of dirt under my nails. It's slightly uncomfortable but at the same time I enjoy the agitation. (I can say this about a lot of things actually.) It's supposed to finally rain tomorrow so I really need to just suck it up and do this.

~*~

Baking again today--zucchini bread. Two kinds--straight up old school and then a version with shredded sweet potato added--very tasty.

~*~

Brian arrives in a little over 48 hours. I am, bluntly, giddy as a school girl. I haven't seen him since February--weather, the shoulder issues, the bronchitis all conspired against me. This weekend is Strawberry Fest (I'll blog more about this later)--it is truly an insane experience. But there's always a lot of barbecuing, eating and drinking.

Mum's the Word

My mother forbade it when I asked for a picture to scan in. She's worse than I am when it comes to taking pictures and having them seen. Pity--she's a cute little thing. I adore my mama--she's one of my favorite people and I don't deserve her. She shlepped my butt around to tons of rehearsals and violin lessons as a kid--dutifully finding something to do with her time while I was busy, always there to pick me up when I was done. She sat through so many bad concerts, recitals and performances, I feel she deserves retroactive hazard pay. But this year she's getting cookies and plants.

I'd wanted to find a pink butterfly bush for her for M-Day, but none of the nurseries or garden centers I went to had them--she's admired a neighbor's for some time so I thought that'd be the perfect thing. So, I had to improvise. I ended up buying a bunch of bulbs for her favorite flowers--stargazer daylilies, pink vermeer daylilies, and a bunch of gladiolias. They're interred and hopefully she'll be able to enjoy them shortly. I'd wanted to get her something already blooming but nothing I saw was appealing. She loves callas and dahlias--and they're readily available in stores right now, but a pain in terms of maintenance. Here in temperate zone 5A they have to be dug up every fall and stored, then replanted come spring. Just not worth it.

A lot of the seeds sown last weekend have popped up--I have no idea what they are (I didn't have my little map handy) but I'm hoping that more of their little brothers burst up and fill in the space. No clue how many bulbs I planted today. I tried to transplant some sweet peas for my mom--I encountered one of the largest tap roots in my life. It broke the shovel handle.

A good day really--beautiful outside, temperate and warm.

Cookie Cookie Cookie Starts with "C"

Brian has a habit of calling me Donna Reed when I'm on a cooking binge. (Either that or my penchant for house dresses, aprons and pearl necklaces.) He's coming for a visit next weekend and since I couldn't make it to Baltimore for his birthday I've gone into baking mode. Today I made Macadamia Nut Triple Chocolate Chunk Cookies (I've come to realize that I also have a habit of making things with multiple chocolates.) Anyway--here's the recipe--it's a riff on the one my mom used when I was a kid.

Macadamia Nut Triple Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Wet Ingredients

5 T. Butter
5 T. Shortening
1/2 C. light brown sugar, tightly packed
1/2 C. granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsps. Vanilla extract
2 T. milk (I prefer buttermilk)

Dry Ingredients
1 1/2 C All-purpose Flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
optional add-in: 2/3 cup cocoa powder

Chocolate and Nuts

1 4 oz. bar Semi-Sweet chocolate (I prefer Ghiradelli's)
1 4 oz. bar White Chocolate
1 4 oz bar Bittersweet Chocolate (I prefer the 60% cacao bars)
4 oz macadamia nuts

preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Chop nuts and chocolate bars into chunks and set aside.

Cream together butter, shortening and sugars until fluffy and increased in volume. Add vanilla. Add eggs one at a time; beat until well combined. Add milk.

Sift in dry ingredients a little a time, mixing slowly.

Fold in chocolate chunks and nuts with a spatula as gently as possible.

Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto parchment paper lined cookie sheets. It might help to spray your spoon with Pam or occasionally wet it--it's very sticky. Wet or Pam your fingers and gently press down dough to flatten slightly. Batter should be dropped about 3" apart--it can spread like crazy if its too warm.

Bake for 10-12 minutes--cookies should look slightly underdone. Let them sit on the cookie sheet for about 5 minutes, then transfer to wire racks to finish cooling.

A Few Notes:

I usually split the dough before folding in the chocolate chunks and nuts and sift in 1/3 cup of cocoa to make a half batch of these in a chocolate variety.

You can use either all butter or all shortening--I've just found that a split between the two gives a better finished cookie. All butter tends to spread out more when baking and all shortening seems a little too crumbly to me.

Use the chocolate of your choice--around here the best I've found in grocery stores is the Ghiradelli's--it chops easily into nice chunks. Other baking chocolates I've found make curls and shred. The cookies are still tasty--but there's just something about seeing huge chunks of chocolate and nuts.

Since the recipe calls for baking soda as a leavener I prefer buttermilk--it reacts with the soda and gives a lighter texture than sweet milk does. It also negates a little bit of the alkaline taste.

If you don't want to deal with such a wet dough (or you want a chewier cookie consistency) refrigerate the dough for about 20-30 minutes before baking.

Parchment paper is a gift from god. Due to the amount of chocolate in the cookies the paper makes a much easier cleanup than using a bare pan does. It also helps minimize spreading.

Makes about 40 cookies.

Lordy Mercy

I went shopping and ran errands with my mama this morning. Biiiiiiig mistake. I should've known it would be a madhouse--tomorrow is mother's day, it's sunny and warm out, next week is the local Strawberry Festival--but did I really think of all that before I said: "Hey you want to go to the nursery and run errands?" No, no, I did not. Dammit.

I'm a misanthrope. I know it. I own it. I'm cool with it. I try to stay out of other people's way when I shop--it's only polite. I don't know what's more irksome--the woman at Lowe's with the two out of control tweens who were running up into checkout aisles and throwing shit from her basket (one had the charming habit of putting a rubbermaid-esque storage tub on his head, then walking around like a defective robot, banging into other shoppers); the dude from Kentucky with the white Lexus that almost hit my 67 year old mother in the Wal-Mart crosswalk (I gave him the finger and cussed him out); or the general people who shouldn't be allowed to operate a shopping cart because they seem unable to walk and push at the same goddamned time. I know that there's a lot of stuff on the shelves--I know options are scary and overwhelming, that the sheer capitalist bounty of Wal-Mart is akin to a spiritual experience--but do you need to park your cart in the middle of the aisle and stand between it and the shelving moving back and forth muttering to yourself?

Ach. Time to go out and dig in the dirt and plant some of my purchases.

O', O', O', O' Yay

Three hundred letters between Flannery O'Connor and Betty Hester are being released from the archives. They have been kept under seal for approximately 20 years at Hester's request. Some of the letters were included in the 1979 compilation The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor, with Hester being referred to by a pseudononymous "A" or just "anonymous." More about that in the linked article above.

The Habit of Being was the first epistolary collection I really read simply for the pleasure of reading and it turned me on to searching out the available letters and diaries of many of my favorite writers and artists. If you've not read it yet--do it. She's damned good (misspellings and all.) I hope these just-released letters will be included in future editions or made available on their own.

Poem for the Day

I don't usually post my own work here, but considering my earlier post about poems and writing it seemed apropos. I'm not sure how long I'll leave this up.

In Transit

Single shoes on the berms and verges
of roadways and off-ramps. Rusty
armature of a pram in a pasture
halfway to Tampa. Candy-colored
doll house in the rainy north-bound lane.
The left wing of a heron, adhered
to the macadam, catching
the shear of passing cars, waving
beside the cane field. Hair bands,
receipts, thanks for shopping come
again! bags in the rumble strips and ditches.
The carcasses, the cherished,
the lost-and-never-missed.
The black snake in the middle of its dying:
long back ground open, whipping
its sharp head over itself:
as if frenzy was a suture.
Sometimes you stop the car—
you can’t help it—you have to see.

What I'm Listening To

I adore L'il Kim. I can't help it. She's tasteless and those cantilevered, pneumatic tatas just send me (yea, I'm a tit man, like Rufus.) I love this song. It makes me want to get stupid drunk and dance. The last few years whenever it's feeling summerish I have to listen to this. It's NSFW but so much fun.