getting ready for april
(april in national poetry month)

Which 20th Century Poet Are You?
You are Nicole Blackman, punk poet princess. You like to wear black and have sex, most of the time simultaneously.
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Which famous poet are you?
You are Lawrence Ferlinghetti! Modern rebel and
owner and proprietor of the City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, Lawrence Ferlinghetti is known for his playful tone and innovative style. The works of lawrence are always eye-opening socio-cultural critiques in a light-hearted tone. He is recognized as one of the most influential poets of the beat era.
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(i was shooting for e. e. cummings, but will not scoff at ferlinghetti, another hero.). i love e. e. cummings so much that i practically feel territorially about him. he is my favorite. i have audio tapes of cummings reading his poetry and while it was cool to hear his voice, i'd rather hear them in my own head instead.

april in national poetry month. if you can't wait until thursday you can peruse my little web collection. there's plenty of cummings.

note to bean



my email is down, so can't send this pronto and i feel like bean needs to see this pronto (how pronto can she get to my blog in the mornings?). found on boingboing.net, crazy berlin art-themed hotel. so right up bean's alley; she herself lives in own nyc art-themed loft (don't believe me? go to today's bean post and scroll to look at bottom photo). she herself loves berlin. good for inspiration to your own crazily potentiated art filled lives.

» propeller island hotel

support the arts from your heart



I am stoked. I just ordered two books I've been dying to have for a long time: journals/inspirational soup bowls from two of my favorite online beings: Keri Smith and Danny Gregory. Even better, Amazon (and i think you can only get these books through amazon) has got a little price-cutting deal when you buy them together.

Grass roots all the way! I say ten cheers for artists doing it their own way and keeping it true. Next I recommend some way to buy a superhero necklace with a loobylu creature. Who'll be the smartypants who puts that together?

quacktastic

I'm a loser baby...

Would you believe me if I were to tell you that for way more than the majority of my life I have not been a big TV watcher? My sister? My sister was the TV watcher. Me? I actually got in trouble in elementary school by my step-father for reading too many books. "Put that book down and come watch tv with the rest of us!" he said and I was probably grounded or made to wash walls or something.

I wish I was making that up, but I'm not. And that is just one of the many pieces of evidence I could enter into this Court of Blog to prove that I am indeed Not Guilty of Losing My Life to the TV-Couch combo.

Until this year. This year, I dunno what happened. Was it reading Heather Havrilesky and wishing I was half as clever as she is and realizing that not only does she love TV but that TV watching actually pays her bills? Was it thinking that Heather is cool and she likes TV so that makes TV cool?

Or was it Monday night poker with Gin and Tonics where the TV just happened to be on in the background (or was it the other way around: Monday night TV with Gin and Tonics and poker just happened to be on in the background?)

Regardless of which way it was or what was the tipping point, I think I am a bonafide TV watcher now. And a blogger. This is gen-u-wine loser status, if it were not for my Permanently Cool For All of Eternity Hall Pass I earned by age 23. Yeah, I'll be pulling that puppy out for the next 3 decades at least. I'd better laminate it.

Meanwhile. Here's some funny crapola about TV that I will share with you just because it is late and why is my computer on? and I'd much rather just go to sleep but hands.will.not.stop.typing.

Television without Pity is Funny. What it says about the Holy Church of Carrie Bradshaw: This stupid, fluffy, and sometimes stale "comedy" with the shelf life of an open bag of chips on a rainy day made a heroine out of a neurotic, skinny shrieker-monkey who had bad affairs for reasons inexplicable to her three mismatched friends, Slutty, Prissy, and Bossy. Long-term plot "questions" were resolved neatly in the finale (Charlotte got a baby! Samantha found love! Big's name is John! And Miranda's heart grew three sizes that day!), but no one ever answered the questions of what wardrobe wrangler Pat Fields was smoking and whether she soaked it in formaldehyde....

Sheesh. Shrieker Monkey. Now that shit is funny.

And if you are really bored at work today — and it's Friday anyway for pete's sake — read The Apprentice subsite on TVwP. Whoever this Miss Alli is, she is funny. Funnier even then Heather Havrilesky. Or however you spell her name. See? Already, Heather's been passed over for someone snarkier. But I tell you, Miss Alli won me over for many funny, insightful things, but the "boyfriend Bill" part was just too on the money. And she even made the Clip show a good read. NBC couldn't even do that.

» TVwP: The Apprentice
» The Apprentites
» Is Bill really her boyfriend?

And as a total aside, I once new a girl who had a friend whom she referred to as TV Time Boy and there is an excellent story that goes along with this moniker, but its hers and not mine to tell. But meanwhile, TV Time Boy is just a funny thing to have roll around in your head and pop up in the most weird moments and so I will share that with you and also let you know that the accompanying story was really pretty damn good. And it had to do with porn. That should get your imagination going.

six signs to call it quits

1. No money would ever be enough


2. Nothing you do makes the least bit of difference


3. You're not learning anything


4. No one ever talks to you about the future in a positive way


5. You hate your boss


6. Who you are at work doesn't relate to the rest of your life

» get the full story

overheard: on the phone with mcl

mcl: i have a crush on my physical therapist.
mar: is she gay?
mcl: she's a he and no he's not gay. [sighs] you know how i am about beautiful boys.
mar: yes i do, and all of us hetero girls hate you for it.
mcl: but i can't get it up for boys.
mar: as a girl i don't think you are required to.

regarding inga swearingen coming to live oak and wondering if mcl knew of her
mcl: omigod! i heard her! wasn't she on that radio show with that guy that creeps me out?
mar: garrison keillor?
mcl: that's the one!

morning nibbles

» mar mar superstar on mirror project
» all maryas on mirror project
» portable relaxation : cloud room
» cranes
» tornados
» roz is my new hero
» make your home your canvas

basic tekneek

art is sposta be fun / when i was performing live theatre basic tekneek was saying Fuck 'Em just before you go on / it dont make no nevermind what anyone else thinks — Katherine H.

i might try to use that basic tekneek in all things.

familiar glimpses through the eyes of awful sara

this morning i had to take a walk to my former home, the co-op extraordinaire to deliver a small package. luckily the house was filled with some of my favorite faces and soon the air was filled with rem's quick wit and justin's wry smile. sara breezed through and i made a point of asking her where i could see her photos online. she has a real site in the works, but was happy to give me her p-base site for the meantime. and wow. these photos are great — with so many that are little familiar glimpses of my life... i share with you, too.

:: rem. lenny bruce ain't dead.
:: ry and laura. who can resist these love birds?
:: wiz. granddaddy to the present-day kits.
:: the mission. side annex, as opposed to main hall.
:: san luis hills to the ocean. all the way to morro rock.
:: the photographer as herself. nothing awful here.

The jewel can be brought out into the light at any time, and it will glow as brilliantly as if nothing had ever happened. — Pema Chodron

Bean mentioned a certain someone (oh, it was me) who was prone to rash periods of withholding, or adding, or trying, or whatever. This is true. My whole life can be explained with the phrase "intermitten bits of Lent." I'm not Catholic, but the idea of going forty days without something is incredibly appealing and is usually how I approach my life when I am going through a Project Mentality Phase.

As a Buddhist I've been given the teaching of "don't get suckered into Project Mentality" on more than one occasion. And as a 30-something American Female, I'm not quite sure I can be persuaded there is Any Other Way.

It's so bright. So shiny. So creamy. So satisfying. And is by far and away my runway towards Perfect Me.

As a Buddhist I've been given the teaching of "you are already your perfect you" on more that one occasion. And I will admit that I have nodded my head because cognitively and spiritually I can actual comprehend and understand and process that statement for at least 12 minutes. 12 minutes and 35 seconds. That is the record. (I timed it in my imagination).

The worst is when you (me, I mean) get to that 13th minute and think to yourself in a not so linear fashion that combining the Project Mentality with the Buddhism is a great and fabulous idea: 30 days to enlightenment! Eight easy steps to nirvana. 25 ways to perfection.

And I make fun now, but I am in the midst of one of my lent-inspired, Buddha-fueled American-neurosis-filled Projects. 108 days of living My Perfect Life, or what I deem to be my perfect life: yoga, meditation, working out, eating healthy, and writing. I'll let you know how I do.

Meanwhile. Last night was Yoga Day One and it was GREAT. There is nothing like the first hour after a yoga class when your entire spine is just sitting so perfectly upright on top of your hips.

Meanwhile. The quote above is not about any of this. It is about Bodhichitta. Bodhichitta being the jewel that we can bring out. What is bodhichitta? Bodhichitta is an awakened heart, that tender spot that is open and courageous that is within us at all times. Pema says, "Just as butter is inherent in milk and oil is inherent in a sesame seed, the soft spot of bodhichitta is inherent in you and me. It is equated, in part, with our ability to love. No matter how committed we are to unkindness, selfishness, or greed, the genuine heart of bodhichitta cannot be lost. It is here in all that lives, never marred and completely whole."

The jewel can be brought out into the light at any time, and it will glow as brilliantly as if nothing had ever happened.

And one more thing, my sister got married a week and a half ago in a very sweet Catholic church. Corinthians 13 was read and it was like I heard it with new ears and I was incredibly moved. Next time you hear it, instead of thinking of romantic love, think of love as an action. Suddenly the scripture I heard a million times came to life.

there are only
two mistakes
one can make
along the road to truth:

not going all the way
and not starting.

— buddha

apropos of a whole lotta nothing

I caught Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind this afternoon and I really liked it. If you were a fan of Being John Malkovich or Adaptation, I recommend it.

And a movie that I saw recently that greatly and hugely and sperm-whale-sized[1] disappointed me was "Le Divorce" cuz I read the book and ooh-la-la-loved it and the movie sucked giant escargot-sized stinky-cheese bits.

Your mileage may vary.

[1] Reference to time in Maui. The sperm whales were EVERYWHERE! At every beach, in all the waters, at all the bars, riding bikes down Haleakala... when they say it's whale season, they ain't kidding.

the boyfriend scramble

i have a friend and for this story he shall remain nameless. he has decided to win back his exgirlfriend and he is pulling out all the stops. all of them. he's all cleaned up (baby smooth cheeks and new flashy togs), he's ordered no fewer than four dozen roses, and he even wrote a poem. the man is on a mission, and i'm not talking friars from spain traipsing up and down the california cost exploiting injuns, either. i'm talking a mission of love.

and it all sounds great. c'mon, you know it sounds great. and many a girl who has heard his plan has been caught red-handed swooning at her keyboard planning her own way to hook up and then break up with him, just so she can feel that baby-butt of a soft cheek and just try to find enough vases to put all them damn flowers in.

however. ms. smarty pants over here, while supportive of and wishing our unrequited hero all of the proverbial best, also knows that when a woman's had it, she's basically had it. and nothing can cement that feeling of been-there-done-that than the one fateful act of chivalry almost every man has attempted at one point of his heartbroken life to his greatest detriment: the boyfriend scramble.

you know the scramble (women do it to, but when acted out by a woman it changes to a fritata, as in free-ta-tas), it's when you do all the things you should have done while the relationship was collapsing at your feet but you were too busy daydreaming about how your life would be much simpler without all their emotional crap so take that and blow it out your blowhole. and then you wake up all alone and cold and sniffly and realize that you have fucked up beyond anything imaginable and decide right then and there in your three-day-old bvds with yesterday's sport section underneath you on the couch that's been your bed for 36 hours straight, you decide to Win Her Back.

that, and all the activities surrounding it is the Boyfriend Scramble. and it is pathetic and men, i'm telling you right here and right now, Just.Don't.Do.It. Cuz the boyfriend scramble is like a magnetic force field that only repels women farther and farther away from you. And the more they loved you once, the farther away they will stay from you when this force field comes down.

all that said, i sent my dear friend a warning email today, hoping that he was not about to bring that forcefield down around himself.

and i sent this email out to my email list, where his gallant efforts were bering heralded to begin with. and a few people had a few things to say about it.

like me.

emdot: make sure that your effort isn't looking like The Boyfriend Scramble. because sometimes nothing is worse than The Boyfriend Scramble.

kate: The Husband Scramble is pretty bad.

beth: Unless you order it yolkless, with lots of spinach, mushrooms and garlic -- then it's actually pretty tasty.

emdot: au contraire. there is nothing worse than the boyfriend scramble ESPECIALLY if he can't take a yolk.

yikes! all that intro and only for a lousy pun?! i know, it's cruel. yet, there is truth to these words my friends. take note and take heed.

---

very important oatmeal advice

if you are like me and like to put raisins in your maple syrup enriched oatmeal, do not make the grave mistake that if raisins are good than 3-types-of-chocolate-chip-trail-mix is better, cuz it isn't. it is gross and thick and way to sweet and you will wish that you weren't vomit phobic.

you have been warned.

babble on sister (shake it!)

Regarding my earlier post, my friend Derek wrote an email and said, "are you sure those people weren't being facetious cuz the whole thing sounds unbelievable."

I'm not sure I would believe this story myself if I wasn't there and done seen it with my own eyes. And P.S., I went in today to pick up the part and the lady *wasn't* wearing her crucifix which of course made me wonder "did she read my blog??!!" because I still have three-year-old-maturity-level moments when I'm not quite convinced the world does not indeed revolve around me.

I'm having one of those moments right now actually.

rumors, for god's sake

The dryer was broken-ish, in need of a part, and in a bit of an appliance-part scavenger-hunt adventure, KB and I ended up in a David Lynchian supply parts store, on the corner of Hint of 1950s Lane and Ohmygodgetmeouttahere Blvd.

The younger guy there was making small talk with KB about our former place of employment. He says, "All the hours you guys worked sure made the guy who owns it filthy rich!"

And I said, "Hey, there's no guy who owns it" because it's a corporation and et cetera. "I guess it's just another rumor," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, like the rumor the Jews are spreading...." said the heavy-set older guy working behind a counter, with a look of incredibility and smugness.

His wife, working behind the other counter and sporting a pretty elaborate crucifix joined in, "Did you hear that on the news today too?"

The man, seeing my and KB's confusion, rolled his eyes and with no subtle hint of smugness and overly obvious self-proclaimed authority, told us, "Yeah, the Jews are now claiming that Jesus was not the son of God!"

And it took ALL of EVERYTHING I had to not say "That's what makes Jews Jews and not Christians you big dorkbutt" with my own eyerolls for added emphasis. (I find "dorkbutt" to be a real catch phrase for open dialogue and symbiotic problem solving). "Why did he think that we were not Jewish?!" asked KB under her breath as we walked out to the car. "I dunno," I said and shook my head, even though we aren't. But still.

And you know, now I am the one with the look of incredibility and smugness. How can some people be so damned stupid?

I have to go back today and pick up my part and I'm not sure I could hold my tongue this time if the topic of the Rumor Mill of God's Chosen People is to come up again. Or maybe I'll add, "You know, they are also rumored to be God's chosen people!!" and say it with the extra eyerolls just so he can understand my entire sentence.

[aside] How is it that I have 300 days of sunshine a year and don't hang my clothes to dry and Canadians have 3 days of sunshine and yet they do hang theirs? This world is imbalanced and I'm on the heavy side of the seesaw.

I am like Ereka. -- "I will not stop until I win." Ereka was Protégé's Project Manager for the Lemonade Challenge. Which Apprentice are You?
brought to you by The Apprentice Blog and Quizilla

---

maybe this is right, but my favorites (personalitywise) have been kristi and heidi. who do i think will win? i think it's squarely between bill and amy (and have thought so for a long time). show i learned the most from? when kristi was fired. little ol' emdot coulda stood up for herself a whole hell of a lot more in the former working situation.

procrastination
it's making me late. making me cr-a-a-azy

things i love to tell you while i should be packing the bags i should have been packing ages ago:

1.) this was definitely the first weekend of spring/summer (depending on where you live and how you guage spring/summer; do you guage by temperature? attitudes? brightness of people's faces as they realize they are indeed wearing tanktops and feeling the sun hit their shoulders? or do you do the predictable and boring calendar/moon thing and snuff at the rest of us for not realizing that spring doesn't start for three more weeks and summer is still a season away? if yes, please have a maitai and try to be a little more creative and/or poetic in your everyday life; it makes things much more bearable. believe me.)

2.) so tonight at 11:30 while taking the litter out to the garbage (which is out on the street cuz the trash guys come tomorrow morning, so i had to travel down the long drive way), i was completely happy because i was still barefoot and bareshouldered. and the litter was out of the house. always a plus.

3.) the air smells like heavenly jasmine.

4.) my town is safe, so traipsing down the long drive way barefoot and bareshouldered in the middle of the night while taking in deep wafts of jasmine and not of kitten litter is not only a lovely thing to do but pretty damn safe.

5.) my new skirt, which i bought a size too small, is still a size too big and this is not because i have lost weight — though not being at the mind-numbingly, heartbreakingly, spirit-killing previous job has somehow melted off eight pounds and i haven't been to the gym since january 2 — but because stores are marking their clothes differently, as if making sure we buy smaller sizes will ensure we will buy more more more.

6.) note to store marketeers: i did buy two skirts insteada just one.

7.) the first new skirt may be the perfect new skirt and you may never see me in another outfit again. you have been warned. please adjust your expectations accordingly.

8.) all of my clothes seem to be sporting white fur these days. i can't wait until the siamese fur begins to darken to match my clothing. please adjust your expectations accordingly.

i should be packing...

it's maui in the morning. i should be packing. well, i should have packed hours if not days ago. this is so typical. but truth be told, i kinda like the last minuteness of it all. it's part of the trip, the packing.

today. i'm gonna be unspecific here, but lemme just say, my heart got a jolt like i don't know what. and it felt all fluttery and electrified for what seemed like hours. maybe it was hours. how does that happen... i tell you. there is some kinda magic with no name to it. let's call it la luna. la bella luna.

feline prophesy

when i rescued little clara bones, i wrote a song about the life i thought she had before i'd gotten her. since she was geriatric, blindish, deafish, and clawless, i envisioned a life where she was a majestic and powerful kitten. now i'm realizing that i was authoring the lives of the kittens to be. that is, if i were to ever let them outside.

it took me long enough



i feel like such a stud.

bits and quips

» the farside, photoshop style
» grow
» vanilla (scroll south)

the bulleted quick list

» amazing photos of ami vitale
» cats, bigger; chapin's face, darker
» hawaii in seven days
» rain rain rain
» love love love to everyone one one