Lit blog

I woke up this morning and it was FREEZING. I checked the AC and it was set to 80, so I turned it some more... but nothing happened. I was stunned, confused, curious and a bit worried until I opened the door to let the dog out and it was COLD OUTSIDE!!! What a concept. Yesterday it was in the 90's , really humid-- I walked to a pumpkin patch with S's kg class and were sweating and a little miserable...brrrrr all of my warm clothes are in the attic, but dont worry it will be 90 again tomorrow. Or who knows, this is all new to me, never know what is going to happen next...

annaswirls said:

I shook Rosilyn Carter's hand in the rose garden....

Click to expand...

Thank you, Anna, you triggered some other famous moment I had. I shook hands with The Duke of York and Duchess Fergie (when they were married, of course) when I was playing for them at a rodeo here in Calgary. I remember Fergie wore white cowboy boots and was ankle deep in horse-shit.

But she was very nice.

annaswirls said:

I woke up this morning and it was FREEZING. I checked the AC and it was set to 80, so I turned it some more... but nothing happened. I was stunned, confused, curious and a bit worried until I opened the door to let the dog out and it was COLD OUTSIDE!!! What a concept. Yesterday it was in the 90's , really humid-- I walked to a pumpkin patch with S's kg class and were sweating and a little miserable...brrrrr all of my warm clothes are in the attic, but dont worry it will be 90 again tomorrow. Or who knows, this is all new to me, never know what is going to happen next...

Click to expand...

Told ya so ~~

Same thing happened here last week. Tank top and shorts one day,
scarves 'n mittens the next.

Parallel

I went to Santa Cruz once, sometime in the late 80s. The company I was working for had bought another company that built high availability computers—redundant CPUs, disks, and so on. I was sent up there to learn about the systems.

They had about five employees left, in a lovely large office space. You could sit anywhere you wanted, so everyone still there sat in the executive suites overlooking the ocean. Very nice, though lonely. There was one other student, a guy from France.

While I was there, I stayed in a hotel called the Dream Inn. Really. I was standing at the front desk, checking in, when a limousine pulled up out front and Fleetwood Mac piled out and walked into the hotel. At the time, they were probably the most popular pop music act in the world.

Mick Fleetwood is tall. Stevie Nicks is short.

Later, I saw them all pile into the limo and go somewhere. Concert, maybe. Don't know.

I didn't sleep well that night. I kept fantasizing about Christine McVie knocking on my door, overcome with desire.

My company ended up deciding to discontinue the product we had bought.

hey yall!

they finally hooked up the PC at the hotel. I miss you guys

be well, write write write/ I will hen I get home

xoxox

maria

Skiing

I don't ski. I tried to learn once, when I was younger.

A friend who knew how offered to teach me. I borrowed some ski clothes from another friend and we headed for the slopes. At the ski area I rented skis, of course, and bought a lift ticket.

Unsurprisingly, I fell down a lot. Usually on my face. Once, memorably, on my butt, with the back end of the skis planted in the snow while I slid down between them, wrenching my knees. I had to release the bindings to get back on my feet. That one really hurt.

At the end of the day, I had fallen so many times, and had to push myself back up so many times, that my arms couldn't lift me anymore. I fell, face down of course, in a flat spot and simply couldn't raise myself off the snow.

While I was lying there, a little boy maybe eight years in age schussed up to me. He was so small he didn't have any poles—just skis. "Hey mister," he said, "you need help?"

I said something like "Mrphm" in reply. He helped me up.

"I used to fall like that," he said. "You get better." Then he skated off to the lift that went up into the clouds.

I spent the afternoon in the bar.

i've been let down in a big way and just want to release thunder and lightning from my palms

i hate myself for being so fucking stupid, releationships in all their forms suck big time

Auction

I went to an auction once. A real auction, not one of those charity ones. I've been to those, of course. I mean a for-profit one. Estate sale.

I read about it in the paper. Guy a little older than me, ordinary guy, drywall contractor I think, died of a heart attack. He liked art and owned something like 500 works. Small things, for the most part, things he had himself bought at charity auctions. Lots of glass art, some of it quite valuable. Chihuly piece valued at $18,000, for example.

Anyway, I found his story intriguing and went downtown to look at what was being offered. I don't collect glass, but there were some paintings and drawings I was interested in, so I decided to come back for the actual event. I wrote some notes about the pieces I wanted and what I was willing to pay for them.

The auction was the next evening. Pseudo-fancy, valet parking and champagne kind of thing. No one wearing formal dress, though. Well, the auction people were.

The most interesting sale of the night was of one of the paintings I wanted to buy. A small piece by a Washington state artist named Joseph Goldberg. He paints in encaustic, a mixture of paint and hot wax that is supposed to be a very difficult medium. Buffs the resulting image. They end up looking like some kind of strange stone artifact. Very simple images, very iconic. Remind me a bit of Paul Klee.

The piece in question was lovely. About the size of a piece of typing paper. Salmon colored. Kind of a triangular image, but again think "artifact". Estimated worth was about $1200.

I bid for a bit, but it quickly escalated well beyond what I wanted to pay. The bidding settled down to a battle between a smallish woman and a man; they were seated fairly close to each other. When the bid reached $3000, the woman stood up and said, very loudly, "Stop bidding against me! I'm going to bid until I get this and you're just driving the price up!" The crowd laughed. The man bid once or twice more and then gave up.

The odd thing about this is that the artist had a current show hung in one of the downtown galleries. For what she paid for this very small piece, the woman could have had her choice of several much larger paintings.

I bought two things, a small painting and a drawing, for close to the minimum.

The valet left a tin of mints on the console of my car.

Maria2394 said:

hey yall!

they finally hooked up the PC at the hotel. I miss you guys

be well, write write write/ I will hen I get home

xoxox

maria

Click to expand...

be well! we miss you too

Tzara said:

<snip> When the bid reached $3000, the woman stood up and said, very loudly, "Stop bidding against me! I'm going to bid until I get this and you're just driving the price up!" The crowd laughed. The man bid once or twice more and then gave up.

The odd thing about this is that the artist had a current show hung in one of the downtown galleries. For what she paid for this very small piece, the woman could have had her choice of several much larger paintings.

Click to expand...

Just goes to show, bigger isn't always better...

Today

I keep telling myself the basics—walk a lot, drink lots of water, try to sleep.

Walk some more.

Walk more.

Tzara said:

I keep telling myself the basics—walk a lot, drink lots of water, try to sleep.

Walk some more.

Walk more.

Click to expand...

You are missing a few of the basics sweetie

The 30 in 30 challenge is hard on me. I've already given up on my late walk twice in order to write my poem before midnight. I am not into poetry, I am hanging around here by inertia, irrationally, for no good reason. And then I got tempted. I don't know if I can take it much longer. I am also worried that something beyond my control might happen, tphoo-tphoo (that t-t was to push the bad luck away).

If I hadn't lied my ass off (Which, you may or may not believe, I am incredibly good at) I would have been diagnosed as an alcoholic, on Friday.

I am uncomfortable with this and here I sit; drinking cider instead of whiskey, doing my best to get over this feelig in the center of my head.

I sat (just to sit, as it were) until I couldn't remember what I was doing, anymore. I'm not sure if that's a step forward.

I got another giant hole punched in my ear last night.

~R

Thank you, Anna. I know the Southern BElle in you is just oozing out down there in Texas

xoxox

m

Senna Jawa said:

The 30 in 30 challenge is hard on me. I've already given up on my late walk twice in order to write my poem before midnight. I am not into poetry, I am hanging around here by inertia, irrationally, for no good reason. And then I got tempted. I don't know if I can take it much longer. I am also worried that something beyond my control might happen, tphoo-tphoo (that t-t was to push the bad luck away).

Click to expand...

something beyond your control? i think you just pushed the barriers away (not the bad luck)... go with the flow and write whatever comes to your fingertips. let it happen and watch where it takes you. the ride could be enlightening.

i find the 30/30 challenge hard around the half way mark. then it begins to annoy me and i hate the obligation of it. at the moment i am writing probably 30 poems a week (pretty close to that many at least. the one per day would drive me nuts. but then, life's like that sometimes.

wildsweetone said:

something beyond your control?

Click to expand...

I meant serious things truly beyond control. (Never mind ).

i think you just pushed the barriers away (not the bad luck)...

Click to expand...

Indeed, I hope it is not premature to say that I am already somewhat less rusty. The phrases don't roll by themselves nonstop in my head yet, I don't know if it will happen, but it's been a bit easier last two days. I was good for one poem per day (but not for two).

go with the flow and write whatever comes to your fingertips. let it happen and watch where it takes you. the ride could be enlightening.

Click to expand...

Yes, but it is far from enough. You have to feel the utmost tension and fear too. Otherwise, I look at those poems around and ... I better not say anything. Because

i cringe
just thinking about the possible bad taste in my mouth
i don't want to blush
a year from now
​

So, no, absolutely no!

i find the 30/30 challenge hard around the half way mark.

Click to expand...

I am barely half way to the half way mark.

then it begins to annoy me and i hate the obligation of it. at the moment i am writing probably 30 poems a week (pretty close to that many at least. the one per day would drive me nuts. but then, life's like that sometimes.

Click to expand...

In the past, when I couldn't have a regular conversation without turning every phrase in my head into an instant poem, it was a sign that my good time for poems was about over.

So far so good about the 30/30 experience, whatever far it takes me will be fine.

Best regards, WStOne,

Senna Jawa said:

. . . Best regards . . .

Click to expand...

senna --

i just want to say how productive i find your presence on the boards, lately.

you know in the past i have suggested that you should perhaps rethink some aspects of your public demeanor, and your pleasant nature recently has been a true asset here.

there has never been a question (certainly not from me, anyway) about your value in regards to the poetic aspects of this forum, just your interaction with others.

it is very good to have your ideas, and knowledge, and constructive criticisms here . . . as well as your smiles.

best,

patrick

Got two rejections this week. One from a place that has taken my work many times before, that one really hurt. I have all of the arguments and condolences lined up rank and file and I know I know I know not to take it personally etc etc etc etc and still feel awful.

On a good note I have been painting clay flower pots and creating some pretty candle votives to give as gifts. More theraputic than poetry for me now and people say "thank you!" and "oh how pretty" and yes, things can grow and burn in them....

One of my potential new buds-- the funny baptist woman from the coffee shop-gym-school was less than friendly to me today, kind of ignored me. It could have been coincidence, it might be that she has shunned me, only time will tell. I need to start going to my church to get that sense of community that gives me strength I need to stand up and do what I feel is right.... and to not let those who believe I am wrong and going to hell along with my children get me down.

Sometiems writing these letters here on this public blog makes me feel incredibly sad: little lonely SOS bobbling along the cyber sea.

Within the blackened walls of death it is not easy to see that spring sprinkles itself through the garden, not easy to pick out the new rose buds or diates with their beautiful virgin faces lifted to the sky. All I can think about are phrases, phrases kept for a rainy day, though I didn't expect rain until Christmas. It's poured here recently and I can't seem to find the gap in the trees to watch the sun lift in the morning. I am left with the incessant pounding of clock hands, the constant confusion of dark imbeded in days that hold no beginning, no end.

Senna Jawa said:

I meant serious things truly beyond control. (Never mind ).

Click to expand...

Ah, yes there's a a fair bit of that around at the moment.

Indeed, I hope it is not premature to say that I am already somewhat less rusty. The phrases don't roll by themselves nonstop in my head yet, I don't know if it will happen, but it's been a bit easier last two days. I was good for one poem per day (but not for two).

Click to expand...

You're 'one' poems per day seem to have me enthralled, as usual.

Yes, but it is far from enough. You have to feel the utmost tension and fear too. Otherwise, I look at those poems around and ... I better not say anything. Because

i cringe
just thinking about the possible bad taste in my mouth
i don't want to blush
a year from now
​

So, no, absolutely no!

Click to expand...

The utmost tension, the utmost fear. Yes I can see that for certain poems, for the best poems of tragedy for example, tension and fear would benefit the wordsmith edge.

I am barely half way to the half way mark.

Click to expand...

You're on a roll.

In the past, when I couldn't have a regular conversation without turning every phrase in my head into an instant poem, it was a sign that my good time for poems was about over.

Click to expand...

Thanks for the warning. I still have too much to write about to have time to worry about poetry writing to be over. I think.

So far so good about the 30/30 experience, whatever far it takes me will be fine.

Best regards, WStOne,

Click to expand...

However far. Each second you spend on it seems to be a second well worth your time and effort. I think it shows in your writing... and the simple fact that you are writing poetry again is in itself a great event. Especially because I get to learn some more about poetry from an experienced poet.



Take good care of your self Wlodek and enjoy your writing.

annaswirls said:

Sometiems writing these letters here on this public blog makes me feel incredibly sad: little lonely SOS bobbling along the cyber sea.

Click to expand...

Well, I still don't get blogs. Though, I guess it's not much different than sharing poetry, stories, images, etc. "Hey, I'm alive! Look at what I have to say! I'm here!"
Anyway, I'm going to blog right now and I'm sure I'll be sick about in the morning, but I'm full of starbucks and full of god knows what else.
After cheerleading practice in 30 some degree weather, I took the kids to the local hotdog/chicken/grease/heartattack hangout. There was another cheer mommy there--one from another team. I communicated with the cheer mommy and for once I fit in! At practice, the other mommies asked why I always wear black. Sitting in my red car, radio on, listening to 70s rock, big boots propped up on the dashboard, freezing my ass off, I shouted out at them, "If you ever see me in pink, shoot me and stuff me!" I don't fit in, but I give them something to wonder about. So yeah, that moment of fitting in at the restaurant was a big thrill. Like I really want to fit in... well, not often.

God! This blog thingy just made me tingle. I want to do it again. Is it a once day deal or what? Can I double blog? I have more guts to spill! Oh, the thing that happened today that was connected to the thing that happened Sat. I want to smack the details down here right now. pant, pant, pant.

annaswirls said:

Got two rejections this week.

Click to expand...

Don't worry about it, Anna, worry only about the level of your poems. And if they have offered criticism, then look even for the smallest possible true seed, because the whole judgement can be globally wrong, but there could be at least a minor thing mentioned for a good reason, and then you have a chance to fix it. Perhaps.

One of my potential new buds-- the funny baptist woman from the coffee shop-gym-school was less than friendly to me today, kind of ignored me.

Click to expand...

She's just jelaous about your pretty, Russian teenage tennis players.

I need to start going to my church to get that sense of community that gives me strength I need to stand up and do what I feel is right.... and to not let those who believe I am wrong and going to hell along with my children get me down.

Click to expand...

Just keep the distance in your poems, remember about the detachment.

Sometimes writing these letters here on this public blog makes me feel incredibly sad: little lonely SOS bobbling along the cyber sea.

Click to expand...

Arguably, Dostoyevsky was the greatest (prose) writer ever, while he was a horrible man otherwise. I agree with one of his basic views. Happiness is not the main human goal, one does not have to live for happiness (I was unhappy most of my life but I am not unhappy about it).

Regards,

WickedEve said:

Anyway, I'm going to blog right now

Click to expand...

Eve, blog as much and as often as you feel like it--the more the merrier. You didn't know it but you're a natural blogger!

After cheerleading practice in 30 some degree weather, I took the kids to the local hotdog/chicken/grease/heartattack hangout.

Click to expand...

Your kids had to love their mommy's cheerleading act

Seriously, I hardly ever had intruded on my children's life, but during my daughters' school years I had forbidden them to be cheerleaders. I told them--you do the sports, and let boys cheer for you. And I didn't let them take the cooking classes either. I told them to learn cooking at home, and let the school be what it is suppossed to be for--for academic learning. These are of course individual decisions, different parents-different decisions. (If boys and girls were taking the cooking classes at school in equal proportions then I wouldn't mind. I wanted to instill in my daughters' consciousness the certainity that they are full-fledged human beings, who should develop their intellectual and professional potential without letting any nonsense stand in their way).

Sitting in my red car, radio on, listening to 70s rock, big boots propped up on the dashboard, freezing my ass off, [...].

Click to expand...

Eve, fix that typo, it's not "t" but "b" after "oo", right?

Regards, fellow-blogger,