Things

To the check-out lady at Wal-Mart who carded me for smokes: Thank you. You made my day.

~*~

The art opening Tuesday was pretty fantastic. It was a faculty show, so I knew most of the people showing...this of course lead to the "what do I say if I hate their stuff" quandary...but luckily it wasn't an issue. What was interesting was seeing two people work outside their usual form. An installation artist did a series of paintings that were influenced by Turkish art and Renaissance perspective techniques (with some very Cy Twombly gestural markings that I just loved.) A sort of abstracted landscape painter did charcoal sketches that owed a fair bit to photorealism but elided certain details. Lovely stuff.

~*~

In the middle of packing for a quick trip to Baltimore and the beloved. Sigh. I hate hate hate packing. I'm checking the weather here and there and trying to plan ahead. I really don't want to pack too much...but I always do. And I most likely will again.

What necessary thing do you hate, gentle reader?

Another Bad Haircut Down

According to the AP, Sam Brownback is dropping out of the race for President. Pity...there weren't enough Brownback Mountain puns. Since Tancredo and Hunter have stitched up the "I Hate Mexicans More Than You" portion of the party, Brownback's departure leaves the "I Hate the 'Mos More Than You" sector up for grabs. Who'll take it? My money's on Fred Thompson. But...I noticed something peculiar while watching the MSNBC coverage of this story this morning. A bit of cognitive dissonance that could explain why Brownback didn't do so well with the GOP (besides being Catholic.)


Am I the only one who thinks this stylized "O" looks like a rectum spewing fireworks?

Veni Vidi Vici

The reading last night went very well. I was not assaulted or nothin...tho the tubby guy in the unironic Iron Maiden tee shirt gave me a brief cause for pause. Eventually, the Famous Grouse kicked in and I could've cared less...tho I was awfully tummy-butterflyish and even had what felt suspiciously like hot flashes up to the point I took to the mic. Bizarre. I usually don't get stage fright. Jittery, yea, but not quite anything like that. I managed to get in a Larry Craig, bathroom sex joke and after that I felt like I was in control and just went with it. I did however, leave the bathhouse and sodomy sonnets home, tho I brought the drug and rough trade poems.

It was great getting to split a reading with my friend Eric, too. He offered a great short story and knocked it out of the park.

My friend Ashley snapped some pics and a vid--we'll see how these turn out, and if I'm not too mortified, I'll see if I can get them posted.

~*~

The 'hawk stayed up the whole 6 hours. I was impressed. That V-05 24 hr. stuff lives up to its name. I ended up talking to Brian when I got home and then crashed in bed straight away. When I woke this morning my hair was only minimally shmushed down from sleep. Amazing. I could have broadcaster hurricane-defying hair if I wanted it.

8 Things.

From Pamela's Blog.

1. What is your favorite guilty pleasure?
Professional Wrestling.

2. How do you take your coffee?
The same way I spent most of my twenties: blonde and lukewarm.

3. Who were you in a previous life?
O, probably no one of any particular importance.

4. Who or what is your greatest influence?
The music of David Bowie and the poetry of Jack Gilbert and James Schuyler.

5. What is the worst film you ever paid to see?
Lost Souls. I actually walked out.

6. What is the best thing you can buy for a dollar?
Lip-liner.

7. What is the worst present you ever received?
Herm...probably something from my bitch sister. I don't remember the bad ones. I just give them to Goodwill.

8. What is your favorite word(s)?
They're all dirty.

Now With Active Cultures

The long weekend away was lovely. It was nice to have the luxury of sitting with my own work, some favorite books; plus I got to share favorite poems and my own poems with friends. Some revising got done and more thoughts and notes on poems-in-progress. All in all, a valuable trip.

~*~

Signage from along the way (this makes me wish I had a digital camera...of course, I was driving solo so getting the pic would have been tricky.) This was on one of those large illuminated signs you see in car lots etc, at the Rustic Inn and Cafe near Marlinton.

*VACANCY!*
*WATCH THE GAME!*
*MATTRESS SALE!*

~*~

Saturday we went to the WV Book Festival in Charleston. Our friend and former teacher Irene was reading and acting as part of a panel for the festival. She was fabu. She owned it. She has this habit of offering a seemingly tangential/effacing introduction to the poems that end up just being a gut-punch. The poem hits hard, her comment hits hard--it's really something. I've seen her in action numerous times over the years and I still have yet to figure out how she does it. She owned the room, hands down.

We ended up being locked in the conference room for about 10 minutes after the panel because the Secret Service was moving Bill and/or Hillary Clinton through to some Democratic hooh-hah being held on-site.

~*~

Another art opening tomorrow. I'm hope-hope-hope-hoping beyond hope that this one is better than last months. Later tomorrow night, I'm reading with Eric. I've got my set list, I'm ready to go...I'm only wondering just how much product it's gonna take to hold my mohawk for 6 hours.

When Were You Ever In That Mens' Room?

During my round of daily blog hopping, I noticed a new Camille Paglia post at Salon.com. Usually, I only read her to see how many paragraphs I can get into it before I'm shouting "horse shit." Today's post is her regularly scheduled "Camille Deigns to Answer Your Letters and Prove She's Smarter Than You" column (unless of course the letter is fawning, then she congratulates them on their good taste.)

So I found this:

Yes, some women do seek sexual relief and excitement in the public bathrooms. During my four years in the Marine Corps, it was well understood that women Marines, bi and lesbian, sought out sexual encounters in the bathrooms on Marine Corps bases and military airports. Especially airports because of the enticement of different women coming through and it being a one-time event. Meanwhile, the gay male marines kept their sexuality pretty concealed and secret. It goes without saying the Marines have a long tradition of a gay-bisexual subculture that involves many career Marines.

Kasmir J. Zaratkiewicz
Richmond, Calif.

I appreciate this diverting glimpse of subterranean military life!

Naturally, I accept your testimony about uniformed gals gone wild in the loo. But it seems as if such behavior is a temporary, makeshift measure, predicated on soldiers' distance from their own homes. It doesn't totally parallel the lifelong cruising style of so many gay men who haunt public toilets as an active erotic choice or preference.

With its acrid hormonal smells, brisk traffic and mundane ritual of furtive self-touch, the men's john stimulates gay lust -- while the ladies' room is just another place to jabber and powder your nose!

Now--I'm not going to paint with a broad brush here...but what frigging "acrid hormonal smells" does she believe we encounter in restrooms? Does she think they pipe in the smell of poppers? (Granted some places do--and for that I have been grateful.) And the histrionic "furtive self-touch"?? It's a mens' room--you unzip your pants, you release your cock, you piss. There's nothing furtive about it. Jesus. And if anyone (not on drugs) can imagine Paglia "jabbering" with one of the girls and "powdering" her nose I'd like to live in their heads for a bit.

This is probably the second single most wrong-headed thing I've ever read by her (which is saying something.) The first? Her use of the phrase "arc of urinary transcendence."

A Weekend in the Country

I'm going away tomorrow for a long weekend in the country....granted, most of my weekends are in the country...but this weekend some folks and I are going a couple of hours away to relax, workshop, write and just eat and drink ourselves stupid. I'm packed and ready. And it's supposed to (finally) be fall-like this weekend. I can't wait.

From the James "Beard" Files

This recipe from Congress Cooks! is not something I would ever prepare...but given the congressional c(r)ook and his choice of ingredients, it's just too good not to pass on....dare I say, toe tappin' good?

The Honorable Larry E. Craig

United States Senator, Idaho

Specialty Recipe

Super Tuber

Super Tuber is a great snack that uses one of my favorite vegetables: The Idaho Potato. Of course, I suppose any type of potato could be used, but I cannot guarantee that a Super Tuber made with anything but a true Idaho potato would taste as good. Sincerely, Larry E. Craig, United States Senator

Ingredients

1 hot dog, cook's choice

1 Idaho baking potato, 7 to 10 ounces

Mustard for dipping, any style

Other condiments as desired such as cheese sauce, sour cream, chili, chives, bacon pieces or black olives.

Wash and dry potato. Rub with shortening or butter. With an apple corer or small knife, core out the potato center (end to end). Push hot dog through the center. Bake until potato is cooked through.

To Microwave: Place on microwave safe plate; cover loosely (to avoid splatters). Microwave on high about 4 minutes per potato until fork tender.

To Bake in Conventional Oven: Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Bake for approximately one hour or until potato is fork tender.

To Barbecue: Wrap in aluminum foil and place above medium hot coals, turning at least once during cooking. Cook until potato is fork tender.

Serving Suggestions: Allow potato to cool slightly. Eat as a finger food, dipping in your favorite hot dog condiments (mustard is my favorite).

Suzanne Craig

Because It's Sunday

It's hard to know where to even start with this...because it's abusrd (which is why I love it)...eh...I'll just cut and paste the relevant info here...thanks AP for doin the heavy lifting.

Scandal Brewing at Oral Roberts U

TULSA, Okla. (AP) — Twenty years ago, televangelist Oral Roberts said he
was reading a spy novel when God appeared to him and told him to raise $8
million for Roberts' university, or else he would be "called home."

Now, his son, Oral Roberts University President Richard Roberts, says God is speaking again, telling him to deny lurid allegations in a lawsuit that threatens to
engulf this 44-year-old Bible Belt college in scandal.

Richard Roberts is accused of illegal involvement in a local political campaign and lavish spending at donors' expense, including numerous home remodeling projects, use of the university jet for his daughter's senior trip to the Bahamas, and a red Mercedes convertible and a Lexus SUV for his wife, Lindsay.

She is accused of dropping tens of thousands of dollars on clothes,
awarding nonacademic scholarships to friends of her children and sending scores
of text messages on university-issued cell phones to people described in the
lawsuit as "underage males."

[snip...just like the covenant of Abraham]

Among the charges of impropriety and misconduct are these doozies

_ A longtime maintenance employee was fired so that an underage male friend
of Mrs. Roberts could have his position.

_ Mrs. Roberts — who is a member of the board of regents and is
referred to as ORU's "first lady" on the university's Web site — frequently had
cell-phone bills of more than $800 per month, with hundreds of text messages
sent between 1 a.m. to 3 a.m. to "underage males who had been provided phones at
university expense."

_ Mrs. Roberts spent more than $39,000 at one Chico's clothing store
alone in less than a year, and had other accounts in Texas and California. She
also repeatedly said, "As long as I wear it once on TV, we can charge it off."
The document cites inconsistencies in clothing purchases and actual usage on
TV.

_ University and ministry employees are regularly summoned to the
Roberts' home to do the daughters' homework.

_ The university and ministry maintain a stable of horses for exclusive
use by the Roberts' children.

_ The Roberts' home has been remodeled 11 times in the past 14
years.

Things

Today's horrorscope...

Gathering your wits could be a full time occupation, but since you haven't got all day to pull things together, the least you can do is fake it. To start with try pretending you're not such an ass.

~*~

Off to have dinner and bowl with my friend Michael tonight. En route I'm going to grab the new Annie Lennox CD.

~*~

I need new things to amuse myself with, new poetry, new music, new movies. Suggestions?

$1500, Not For Sale

After the miserable gallery experience of a few weeks ago, the kids (Tommy, Ashley, Eric) and I sat at dinner and decided that we would get together and make our own assemblage art pieces. Ashley hosted and that weekend we got to it. There is, sadly, a lack of pubic hair on these pieces which I fear will limit their retail worth. I believe each piece is valued at $1500.00 American, but because they are now part of private collections, they're no longer available. We're also lacking individual artist statements regarding their works. Larger images available here.

"Untitled," Mixed Media Assemblage, by A. Lawson
part of the Schoffler Permanent Collection


"Do Not Kill the Animal," Mixed Media, Poster Paint, Mod Podge, by E. Waggoner
part of the Gibson Permanent Collection


inset of "Do Not Kill the Animal"


"Out Door and Camp Life for Women," Mixed Media, Acrycilic Paint, by R. Gibson
part of the Lawson Permanent Collection

Last of the (faux) Pioneer Lesbians

Ach. I struck a blow today for freedom from agricultural tyranny! All of the tomato plants and their last unripened, rotting, blighted fruits are now festering on the compost heap. Huzzah. It's hard to describe the mild pleasure I felt as I yanked each plant and tossed it in the wheelbarrow.

All that's left now is to harvest the peppers to dry and turn into braids and wreaths (that is so totally not my idea, but that's what I'm doing.)

A few weeks ago I took god knows how many pounds of peppers and made jelly and pickles..pretty tasty...but not something I'm going to do again. (When handling peppers...make sure to wash your hands before you go to take a leak...that's all, I'm sayin.) I also ended up making and canning 20 quarts of vegetable broth. That's really what sent me over the edge about never canning again. My ambition and newly found tendency toward thrift got the best of me. The broth's delicious...it's perfect for soup and stews...but never again in such quantities.

~*~

Went last Thursday to a United Methodist Rummage Sale with Ashley, Eric and Tommy...and had a great time. However...when dealing with acronyms for organizations, one should think about adolescent thirtysomethings who giggle when they see signage reading: Make checks payable to BUM Women. This was a serious rummage sale...at least 3,000 square feet of stuff. I scored a copy of the New York Times Cookbook for a buck, a verrrry 70s french press (also a buck) and some vintage/retro fabric remnants for this lap quilt I want to make this winter.

Drudgery Report

Brian told me last night I needed to post something here since it's been several days. Alas, the boy's right. There's just not much to write about. Usual round of things: gardening, reading, trying to write, etc etc etc.

~*~

It's the damnedest thing, really. It's fall now, we've had the equinox and everything, but it's still pushing 90 degrees here. Leaves are coloring and crisping and littering the yard but it's still frigging hot. Crazy. I want it to be autumn. I want to wear sweaters, cook soups and stews (but no those hideous Rachel Ray "stoup" things.)

~*~

It appears as though I'm tapped to read again next month, this time in concert with my friend Eric. I need to haul ass and get these new poems worked up.

~*~

My friend Minda sent me this list of "real life plot twists of famous authors" from Mental Floss. It's not a bad diversion. Some of them I knew, some I didn't think were necessarily "twistish" but some are gold.

2. Horatio Alger, Jr.

Apparently, the author of more than 120 "rags-to-riches" books featuring hard-working, highly moral young heroes was also an admitted pederast.

Before finding success as an author, Alger was a minister at a Unitarian Church in Brewster, Massachusetts, where he was accused of sexually assaulting two young boys. Alger admitted his guilt, but left town before the news hit the street.

Later, he wound up in New York City, where he penned hundreds of best-selling books for and about young boys, which went on to grace the shelves of homes, schools and church libraries across America.

Blame Canada.

Modes

Ach du Lieber! Chris Crocker...you know...the "leave Britney alone" guy from YouTube...has a tv development deal for a show called (I shit thee not) "The Chris Crocker Experience." More here. (h/t Brian.)

~*~

New poems cooking. Working early drafts in long hand, this round. It's always curious to me when I change how I work as the poems generate...sometimes it just has to be hand-written. There's a difference in how the poems turn out for me.

~*~

Tuesday night I went to a reading that was positively divine. A much better experience than my brush with kulture the previous week. A totally different style of reading and presenting poems than I generally see, and all the more exciting for that fact. Very performative and joyous. Not overly solemn or "meaningful." Declaimed from memory (a talent I just do NOT have, despite doing theatre) and much talk about "saying" the poems as opposed to "reading."

Caesurae

I've been fixated on pause and breath and rest and space, not just in terms of poetry but real life. It's getting to be that time--almost autumn, when it seems everything is space and rest. The gardens are giving up their last, though some determined plants are hanging on--there are a few zinnias in the beds that are as strong now as they were in early August. I need to work out a plan for dead-heading and collecting seeds from certain annuals for next year.

~*~

Harvested the last few salvageable tomatoes from my home beds last night. By this point I'm sick of canning and cold-packing. So I decided I'd make some tomato soup. I opted to make it with vegetable broth instead of purely cream (this also helped me get rid of some produce from the fridge that I needed to deal with (parsley, shrooms, bits of onion, celery and carrots.)) It turned out better than I'd hoped. Today is grey and drizzly--so it made a perfect lunch.

How to Rob...Beaux Arts Edition

As Eric said to me last night: I'm in the wrong racket. There's no other way to explain it. I am ready to renounce poetry entirely and become a visual artist. I can certainly put together as good a show as the one I saw last night.

It was one of the worst shows I've seen in years. I've seen undergraduate thesis shows that were more interesting (and better executed) than this one was. Billed as a series of photocollage work, the show was nothing more than a series of photos (not all taken by the artist) juxtaposed with "found" "repurposed" items (any old junk she had lying around) "mounted" on 18" x 24" artist's paper (it's sad when paper size is the only thing you remember from the artist's statement...but there it is.)

It was obvious--a black and white picture of trees had a snarl of black thread coming down from the lowest margin of the photo; a black and white picture of a stone wall had little squares of tracing paper painted grey taped in a stack beneath the lowest margin of the photo. It was sloppy--tape was visible on several of these pieces and one of the framed works had a crisp short kinky hair trapped between the matte and the glass...yes...she hung a piece of art with a visible pube (and no it wasn't intentional..."pubic hair" wasn't mentioned in the list of mixed media.) Plus the frames were cheap. If you're asking that much money for "recycled" art, for fuck's sake, professionally frame that shit.

Look around your house...if you have a black and white photo and some black electrical tape, you can slap it on some paper and ask 1200.00 for it. Or maybe you have some old negatives and a spool of thread? That's also 1200.00. Tulle? Bubble wrap? Packing material? 900.00 and 1000.00!

I was glad Brian called me just a minute or so into her "lecture" (a series of obvious statements about fun, form (Do you know what I mean when I say formal qualities?) that lasted a scant 10 minutes. Had I stayed for the whole thing, I think I'd have had to cut the bitch.

Give This Kid a Valium

More Photoblogging

Ashley & Tommy
Pretty in Pink


Ashley, Me & Jenny
Still no boobies.


Tommy & Eric

PhotoBlogging. The Party

Brian sent me the pics from our big birthday/anniversary do a couple of weeks ago. So in lieu of writing something I thought I'd just post some pictures.

Me and a plurality of my favorite men.
l to r: Brian, Me, Tommy, Eric & Michael


Me and my mama.


Brian's Paparazzi Face.
(No clue what's happening outside the frame, but the look slays me.)