overheard
mar: that was funny.
ann: that part was funny. well, part of that part.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Dance Church
Dance Church
from Philip
This Sunday...
...expect a highly percussive trance-induced journey that fuses funky, intricate rhythms into a source of telepathic musical expression, created in the Now time.
...expect musical conversations that are a discourse of patterns, melodies,
pumping bass and get up and shout beats coupled with tribal thunderstorms of percussion and run down the spine, lush, melodic nasty matrices of
sound.
We'll slowly build rhythmic tension, and then releases it with signature break-through explosions that seamlessly morph into ambient sound-scapes.
Bring a Friend...
DANCE CHURCH - free form, ecstatic, improvisational dance - candle lit space - live and recorded music varies weekly ranging from soul, funk, and electronica, to hip-hop, ambient and world groove fusion - "Dance As If No One Is Watching" Every Sunday (except holiday weekends) from 7pm to 9pm - Yoga Centre in SLO. 549-9642 $5 admission
I found the picture from one of my contact's streams. Check out isaidjon and check out the cool Just Rhythms photo set.
from Philip
This Sunday...
...expect a highly percussive trance-induced journey that fuses funky, intricate rhythms into a source of telepathic musical expression, created in the Now time.
...expect musical conversations that are a discourse of patterns, melodies,
pumping bass and get up and shout beats coupled with tribal thunderstorms of percussion and run down the spine, lush, melodic nasty matrices of
sound.
We'll slowly build rhythmic tension, and then releases it with signature break-through explosions that seamlessly morph into ambient sound-scapes.
Bring a Friend...
DANCE CHURCH - free form, ecstatic, improvisational dance - candle lit space - live and recorded music varies weekly ranging from soul, funk, and electronica, to hip-hop, ambient and world groove fusion - "Dance As If No One Is Watching" Every Sunday (except holiday weekends) from 7pm to 9pm - Yoga Centre in SLO. 549-9642 $5 admission
I found the picture from one of my contact's streams. Check out isaidjon and check out the cool Just Rhythms photo set.
Shadow
more from ottmar
If I was a Christian this would be a statement I would really want to get behind. But I'm not sure I would have understood the meaning if I had not been a Buddhist, first.
This is reaching, but I'll still put it out there. It's like this photo. To be the tree or the shadow of the tree. And how do you see the tree? The whole tree? Or just the top with a big fence in front? Or just a shadow of the tree?
I myself am not particularly interested in Buddhism or in being a Buddhist. I am interested in being Buddha. Zen Buddhism is just the path I have chosen to become Buddha - or recognize that I am Buddha already, as Zen would say. Likewise I feel that more people should become Christ rather than remain Christians. There is a fundamental difference. One lives the absolute truth - or as close as one can get, the other follows the relative truth, one lives the rules or precepts, the other follows the rules, one lives love and compassion - the other talks about it. (whole entry here).
If I was a Christian this would be a statement I would really want to get behind. But I'm not sure I would have understood the meaning if I had not been a Buddhist, first.
This is reaching, but I'll still put it out there. It's like this photo. To be the tree or the shadow of the tree. And how do you see the tree? The whole tree? Or just the top with a big fence in front? Or just a shadow of the tree?
Thursday, April 28, 2005
keep your arms and hands inside the blog
So, I've been a little snippy lately. I don't know what it is, but my mouth has seemed to have had a second helping of vicious. I've put on an invisible muzzle, but it seems to fall off now and again. The weirdest things are setting me off, like the loud-mouth lady in Linnaea's this morning who was BLAH BLAH BLAHING a poor German couple to death, using all kinds of definitive statements about what my town is like. Grrrrrr.
There is an old comic that used to be in the LA Weekly called The Angriest Dog in the World. The fang-baring pooch is always seen in the back yard straining hard against its chain. Grrring and Mrrring. Lately I've been that dog. So what's chaining me? I dunno.
Steve Moss passed away this week. I didn't know him, but of course knew his name. He helped start the New Times (SLO Town's alt weekly rag) and invented 55 Fiction. So this morning I was thinking, you know, he was too young to go, but dude! he invented 55 Fiction. And while it wasn't a cure for cancer it is a little art form that is used all across the world now. Good for Steve Moss. I'm sorry for his untimely passing.
I've been writing a lot. Articles, press releases, information pages, web sites. I kind of pride myself about being easy going with my writing. If somebody needs to change some words, change some paragraphs, I don't take it personally and encourage them to edit as necessary. The important thing is that the client gets a chance to express their goals the way they want and need, right?
Well. Okay, maybe it was because I'm the Queen Regent of Snippety Snappity. Maybe it's being the Angriest Emdot in the World. But yesterday one of my clients (who is also a good friend) sent me back an interview I'd written with rivets of red. Valleys of red. A complete gridwork of red. Slashed and burned. There were "the"s added. Thats added. Commas, periods, parentheses. Entire quotes changed. And in a presto-second I think I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle.
And now I'm laughing because it's funny to get so worked up. In hindsight. In hindsight many things are much funnier than they are in non-hindsight. Which is what? Foresight? In your shoes sight? But man, I was ready to go word-for-word through the whole document and stand up for my little spelled-out beauties. And so we did.
Moral of the story? Working things out with friends is better than the alternative. Or something. Lesson of the story? Perhaps I should back off from the extra cup of coffee? Or maybe I just need to turn the computer off for a while and go for a very long walk. Or atleast as long as the chain will let me.
So, I've been a little snippy lately. I don't know what it is, but my mouth has seemed to have had a second helping of vicious. I've put on an invisible muzzle, but it seems to fall off now and again. The weirdest things are setting me off, like the loud-mouth lady in Linnaea's this morning who was BLAH BLAH BLAHING a poor German couple to death, using all kinds of definitive statements about what my town is like. Grrrrrr.
There is an old comic that used to be in the LA Weekly called The Angriest Dog in the World. The fang-baring pooch is always seen in the back yard straining hard against its chain. Grrring and Mrrring. Lately I've been that dog. So what's chaining me? I dunno.
Steve Moss passed away this week. I didn't know him, but of course knew his name. He helped start the New Times (SLO Town's alt weekly rag) and invented 55 Fiction. So this morning I was thinking, you know, he was too young to go, but dude! he invented 55 Fiction. And while it wasn't a cure for cancer it is a little art form that is used all across the world now. Good for Steve Moss. I'm sorry for his untimely passing.
I've been writing a lot. Articles, press releases, information pages, web sites. I kind of pride myself about being easy going with my writing. If somebody needs to change some words, change some paragraphs, I don't take it personally and encourage them to edit as necessary. The important thing is that the client gets a chance to express their goals the way they want and need, right?
Well. Okay, maybe it was because I'm the Queen Regent of Snippety Snappity. Maybe it's being the Angriest Emdot in the World. But yesterday one of my clients (who is also a good friend) sent me back an interview I'd written with rivets of red. Valleys of red. A complete gridwork of red. Slashed and burned. There were "the"s added. Thats added. Commas, periods, parentheses. Entire quotes changed. And in a presto-second I think I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle.
And now I'm laughing because it's funny to get so worked up. In hindsight. In hindsight many things are much funnier than they are in non-hindsight. Which is what? Foresight? In your shoes sight? But man, I was ready to go word-for-word through the whole document and stand up for my little spelled-out beauties. And so we did.
Moral of the story? Working things out with friends is better than the alternative. Or something. Lesson of the story? Perhaps I should back off from the extra cup of coffee? Or maybe I just need to turn the computer off for a while and go for a very long walk. Or atleast as long as the chain will let me.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
tornado sky moving out
Visual Eye Feast; May Require Seconds
If you need a little break today from the ho hum or the hum drum, do yourself a favor and go visit mcartist's photostream. photostreamygoodness. organic. miasmic. geometric. saturated. subtle. hers is an eye that not many have. seeing the beauty in the everywhere and sharing it with the rest of us.
» Mcartist's Photostream
If you need a little break today from the ho hum or the hum drum, do yourself a favor and go visit mcartist's photostream. photostreamygoodness. organic. miasmic. geometric. saturated. subtle. hers is an eye that not many have. seeing the beauty in the everywhere and sharing it with the rest of us.
» Mcartist's Photostream
Sunday, April 24, 2005
overheard
the phone rang and i answered it like this:
m.: i knew it was you.
t.: how did you know it was me?
m.: i just knew.
t.: you have caller id.
m.: i do, but i knew before i checked.
t.: how could you know?
m.: because i am intuitive and incredibly smart.
t.: well. shoot. both those things are very true.
i love agreeable people.
the phone rang and i answered it like this:
m.: i knew it was you.
t.: how did you know it was me?
m.: i just knew.
t.: you have caller id.
m.: i do, but i knew before i checked.
t.: how could you know?
m.: because i am intuitive and incredibly smart.
t.: well. shoot. both those things are very true.
i love agreeable people.
Friday, April 22, 2005
koharu and cherry blossoms
Tamaki's photo stream should be mandatory viewing. I myself have fallen behind, but I tell you. You give me a photo with Koharu's adorable snout and a cherry tree a-bloomin' and I ask you: is it possible to stay away and not look more and more and more?
» Tamaki on Flickr
» Tamaki on Flickr
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
linnaea's for breakfast
'morning
Fun morning surprise equals when a friend calls you on a workday and asks, "whatareyoudoingrightnow."
And it's still a little early and you haven't had coffee yet and you're parsing it all thinking, what am I doing? and so you answer, "Just starting my day."
And he says, "Well, you wanna start it at Linnaea's? I'll pick you up in five minutes."
And you think, "Five minutes. Five minutes... how long does it take to get dressed and brush hair and brush teeth?" But the words that come out of your mouth are "Yes yes Linnaea's come over and get me."
I love mornings like that.
- - - -
Two different songs on my iTunes this morning that made a smile spread across my face: 5 Times out of 100 by Hot Hot Heat and This Is Your Soul by Hothouse Flowers.
- - - -
Great fucking morning. Okay. But I gotta finish this press release. Got. To.
Hands are you listening? You'd better be listening. Fingers are you paying attention? You'd better be warmed up and limber and ready to do your little dance across the keyboard.
Fun morning surprise equals when a friend calls you on a workday and asks, "whatareyoudoingrightnow."
And it's still a little early and you haven't had coffee yet and you're parsing it all thinking, what am I doing? and so you answer, "Just starting my day."
And he says, "Well, you wanna start it at Linnaea's? I'll pick you up in five minutes."
And you think, "Five minutes. Five minutes... how long does it take to get dressed and brush hair and brush teeth?" But the words that come out of your mouth are "Yes yes Linnaea's come over and get me."
I love mornings like that.
- - - -
Two different songs on my iTunes this morning that made a smile spread across my face: 5 Times out of 100 by Hot Hot Heat and This Is Your Soul by Hothouse Flowers.
- - - -
Great fucking morning. Okay. But I gotta finish this press release. Got. To.
Hands are you listening? You'd better be listening. Fingers are you paying attention? You'd better be warmed up and limber and ready to do your little dance across the keyboard.
time to see the turtles
a la brezny's weekly astrology
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): My friend Kathleen traveled to Maui with her nine-year-old daughter Ariel. They checked into an ocean-side condo. At 5 a.m. on their first morning there, Ariel crept over to Kathleen's bed and repeatedly whispered, "Let's go see the sea turtles." Rising out of the depths of sleep, Kathleen was torn. Part of her was peeved at the intrusion because she wanted to luxuriate in bed till late morning. Another part of her longed to glimpse the turtles, which only appeared in the cove once a day at dawn. Kathleen decided to join Ariel, conquering her annoyance and putting aside her desire for comfort. The payoff was worth it. Seeing the turtles while in a dreamy state was an unforgettable joy. I predict you will be faced with a comparable situation in the coming week, Virgo. I suggest you choose as Kathleen did.
a la brezny's weekly astrology
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): My friend Kathleen traveled to Maui with her nine-year-old daughter Ariel. They checked into an ocean-side condo. At 5 a.m. on their first morning there, Ariel crept over to Kathleen's bed and repeatedly whispered, "Let's go see the sea turtles." Rising out of the depths of sleep, Kathleen was torn. Part of her was peeved at the intrusion because she wanted to luxuriate in bed till late morning. Another part of her longed to glimpse the turtles, which only appeared in the cove once a day at dawn. Kathleen decided to join Ariel, conquering her annoyance and putting aside her desire for comfort. The payoff was worth it. Seeing the turtles while in a dreamy state was an unforgettable joy. I predict you will be faced with a comparable situation in the coming week, Virgo. I suggest you choose as Kathleen did.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
The Legs Project
Yea!
I am so tickled about this. I got to participate in an online photography project called Legs. It's a gallery of leg photographs as taken by women. I think most of them are self portraits.
Please take a look -- it is a really fun project. Huge thanks to Catherine Jamieson who thought the project up, got us all together and then built out the site.
» A Celebration of Legs
I am so tickled about this. I got to participate in an online photography project called Legs. It's a gallery of leg photographs as taken by women. I think most of them are self portraits.
Please take a look -- it is a really fun project. Huge thanks to Catherine Jamieson who thought the project up, got us all together and then built out the site.
» A Celebration of Legs
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Mojitos
Listen up my Live Oakian Camp Happy Face crew: This is how we are making the mojitos this year. None of that mamby pamby couple of sprigs of mint. No. We are doing an entire garden of mint. In each glass. Bring clipping shears.
An excerpt from the Gothamist interview of Augusten Bourroughs
For those aspiring writers lacking in magical thinking, do you have any advice on how to be a writer? Do you think that's something that can be taught or learned, or are you just born with it?
You do not have to be "born" with "it." You do need to have a passion. You need to want to be a writer and it's best if you really enjoy writing. But you can hate writing or dislike writing and still be a writer. But it's best if you enjoy it. And you should read, like I said before, as many good books as you can. Don't read junky books, trash. Limit yourself to one "beach read" per season, I think. And then read really good works by smart, literate authors. On all topics. Stretch yourself. And believe me, this is advice I take myself. I didn't even read a book until I was 24, so think of that and get inspired. The other thing, write every day. Even if you only write for ten minutes. You do that every day and in a year, you'll have quite the Word Collection. And some of those words are bound to be in an order you like. In other words, you'll have some good stuff.
But the number-one most important thing, and the reason you want to write every day, is because you must be honest. Whether you are writing fiction or nonfiction, demand of yourself ruthless honesty. This means, accurate descriptions of feelings and thoughts and the environment. True, true, true, this is what you want to achieve. Something that rings, as I say, the bell of truth. Know, too, that writing isn't something you need to study in college or graduate school or anywhere. Think of Elizabeth Berg. She's a perfect example. Elizabeth Berg is one of my favorite authors and did she go to Iowa and get a fancy degree? No, she did not. She was an R.N. And she wasn't seventeen when she published her first novel, either. My last piece of advice is to never, never give up. No matter how poor the odds may appear. If it's something you really want, then you must never, ever let go of the vision, the dream. And this, really, IS Magical Thinking.
Cat
You do not
By Miller Williams (a repost from last year)
Cat
You do not drive cars
Cat
You do not read the newspaper
Cat
You sleep
You eat and drink milk
You catch cockroaches
and you sleep
Cat
You do not mail letters
Cat
You do not go to funerals
You sleep
across my lap
lying with everything shut
Cat
I am learning to sleep
You do not
By Miller Williams (a repost from last year)
Cat
You do not drive cars
Cat
You do not read the newspaper
Cat
You sleep
You eat and drink milk
You catch cockroaches
and you sleep
Cat
You do not mail letters
Cat
You do not go to funerals
You sleep
across my lap
lying with everything shut
Cat
I am learning to sleep
just heard about
mike doughty, former lead singer of soul coughing, is coming out with a new CD and morning becomes eclectic played one of the songs today. it was so good i immediately trotted off to itunes to procure it on the spot. but it's not released yet. damn that morning becomes eclectic. making me practice patience.
mike doughty, former lead singer of soul coughing, is coming out with a new CD and morning becomes eclectic played one of the songs today. it was so good i immediately trotted off to itunes to procure it on the spot. but it's not released yet. damn that morning becomes eclectic. making me practice patience.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
nothing worse than
curdled milk. i just went to add some cream to my coffee. but i grabbed the wrong container. man. the faces you pull in the presense of curdled milk are cartoon worthy for sure. who knew faces could be so pliable?
teach me a lesson hypocrite driver. sigh. that's such a cliche topic to make you upset, isn't it? but here's the deal: so i'm speeding along on the los osos valley road, in the fast lane, trying to get ahead of the slowpokes. and i do get a head of them. all but one. and that one is an old man going 55. the speed limit here is 55. and he's doing it. and he kinda glances at me in the rearview mirror so he knows i'm there and it's obvious that i had wanted to pass him. which makes me think he is mr. cranky mccrankster and setting out to teach speedy mcspeedy (that's me) a thing or two about following the traffic laws.
except — and this is when it became something worthy to blog home about — when the speed limit did change to 45 and then 35, cranky mccrankster didn't slow down. he had forgotten that he was trying to teach me a lesson and just blew through town going 10 - 20 miles per hour over the speed limit.
so listen, crankster. i understand your right to drive the speed limit. and i'd even give you a pass on the non-verbal lecture. but c'mon. if you're going to be all high and mighty you have to show some level of consistancy about it. capiche?
note to all wouldbe email writerinners: there was no tailgating. i'm no tailgater.
curdled milk. i just went to add some cream to my coffee. but i grabbed the wrong container. man. the faces you pull in the presense of curdled milk are cartoon worthy for sure. who knew faces could be so pliable?
teach me a lesson hypocrite driver. sigh. that's such a cliche topic to make you upset, isn't it? but here's the deal: so i'm speeding along on the los osos valley road, in the fast lane, trying to get ahead of the slowpokes. and i do get a head of them. all but one. and that one is an old man going 55. the speed limit here is 55. and he's doing it. and he kinda glances at me in the rearview mirror so he knows i'm there and it's obvious that i had wanted to pass him. which makes me think he is mr. cranky mccrankster and setting out to teach speedy mcspeedy (that's me) a thing or two about following the traffic laws.
except — and this is when it became something worthy to blog home about — when the speed limit did change to 45 and then 35, cranky mccrankster didn't slow down. he had forgotten that he was trying to teach me a lesson and just blew through town going 10 - 20 miles per hour over the speed limit.
so listen, crankster. i understand your right to drive the speed limit. and i'd even give you a pass on the non-verbal lecture. but c'mon. if you're going to be all high and mighty you have to show some level of consistancy about it. capiche?
note to all wouldbe email writerinners: there was no tailgating. i'm no tailgater.
hot damn it is a beautiful morning
I guess we had a little earthquake this morning, which explains how I woke up before seven. BUT. The earthquake was only a 3.something. After the rockers in South East Asia I seriously wonder how a 3.something gets a mention on the news. But I guess if sprinkles can get a spot on the weather, 3.something can get a mention as well.
Maria Shriver has a new book out so is making the rounds. I heard her interviewed this morning. It's funny. As a reporter she really drove me crazy. Nuts. But as a first lady? She's amazing. I'm still on the fence about Arnie as govenator (not as bad as I thought he was going to be, but then he did that blowhard move with the teachers and the pay and I begin to think he is a total tool), but Maria as First Lady? My state totally lucked out.
She should be our permanent First Lady, serially marrying all the new govenors (regardless of gender).
Today she was talking about fear and mentioned the quote by Elenor Roosevelt: do something that scares you every day.
As a self-proclaimed scaredycat who has done my time frozen by fear, for some reason, this pat quote I have heard a million times today kind of came to life.
And I realized, truly: if you were to take that on as your own personal challenge, doing something that scares you every day, your whole life would transform. And not only because you would be pushing your limits, but because you wouldn't take fear so seriously.
Because the only response to "that scares me" would be, "so?"
So? may be my new favorite answer.
That scares me. So?
I heard another interview about honesty and truth. (Stupid interview question, "Is truth always the best answer?" Der. Like the interviewee is going to say "No." Blech.). And the interviewee (whom I've already forgotten) said, the key is Truth with out the brutal. I loved that. And ... that is my quandry. Usually I'm okay. But I think when it's Truth of the capital T variety that has somehow garnered some kind of weight in my world, the brutal just hitches a ride and smiles a demon smile, knowing that this is its opportunity to sneak out of my mouth unnoticed.
I guess we had a little earthquake this morning, which explains how I woke up before seven. BUT. The earthquake was only a 3.something. After the rockers in South East Asia I seriously wonder how a 3.something gets a mention on the news. But I guess if sprinkles can get a spot on the weather, 3.something can get a mention as well.
Maria Shriver has a new book out so is making the rounds. I heard her interviewed this morning. It's funny. As a reporter she really drove me crazy. Nuts. But as a first lady? She's amazing. I'm still on the fence about Arnie as govenator (not as bad as I thought he was going to be, but then he did that blowhard move with the teachers and the pay and I begin to think he is a total tool), but Maria as First Lady? My state totally lucked out.
She should be our permanent First Lady, serially marrying all the new govenors (regardless of gender).
Today she was talking about fear and mentioned the quote by Elenor Roosevelt: do something that scares you every day.
As a self-proclaimed scaredycat who has done my time frozen by fear, for some reason, this pat quote I have heard a million times today kind of came to life.
And I realized, truly: if you were to take that on as your own personal challenge, doing something that scares you every day, your whole life would transform. And not only because you would be pushing your limits, but because you wouldn't take fear so seriously.
Because the only response to "that scares me" would be, "so?"
So? may be my new favorite answer.
That scares me. So?
I heard another interview about honesty and truth. (Stupid interview question, "Is truth always the best answer?" Der. Like the interviewee is going to say "No." Blech.). And the interviewee (whom I've already forgotten) said, the key is Truth with out the brutal. I loved that. And ... that is my quandry. Usually I'm okay. But I think when it's Truth of the capital T variety that has somehow garnered some kind of weight in my world, the brutal just hitches a ride and smiles a demon smile, knowing that this is its opportunity to sneak out of my mouth unnoticed.
Monday, April 11, 2005
take your toaster to work day
i am such a fan
my day was just made. i saw that heather champ posted one of my photos to her del.icio.us stream and the link appears on her web site (for however fleeting that will be). you just don't know. that stretches my smile to damn near around the circumference of my head. and i wish i could act all cool and like it's no big deal, but heather's the shit, so i can't do that. :)
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Saturday, April 09, 2005
i have seen too many scary movie trailers
i don't see scary movies. why? well one, i hate being scared. two, those things stay with me for days. and by that i mean i will be scared to enter my house at night, dark shadows will seemingly team with evil making me afraid of any noise, and let's not even talk about taking a shower at night. i was the kid who would sleep with their lights on and still be a little scared. so i know better than to subject myself to the horror genre.
hollywood, however, is not being supportive. i have had to watch several trailers now, while innocently waiting for my movie to start, that have made me jump out of my skin.
and yet it seems to me that basic common sense could stop this genre from even existing. i mean hello, when certain evil things happen you make a smart choice to get the hell out.
let me give you some examples.
1. when the numbers to the upper floors are burned off the elevator buttons, DON'T GO UP THERE. even better: move out of that building. what are you waiting for?
2. when the hotel you've been hired to caretake over the winter has a maze made out of hedges, forget your signed contract: don't take that job. go back to the city. what are you waiting for?
3. when no one lives upstairs yet, the upstairs is inexplicably flooding and the gathering water is creating a "crying" ceiling in your apartment, get the hell out of there. what are you waiting for? do not think for one second that you should grab a flashlight to "check things out." instead check this out: your suitcases. there they are. pack them. now go.
i bring all this up because this afternoon i had made myself a delicious cup of tea, still steaming hot. and i had purchased one delectable lip-lickable palmier (my current favorite cookie; so inexplicably delicious it deserves its own blog post). the only problem with the palmier (not that it was a "problem"; there is nothing problematic with the palmier) was that it was a little flaky and i had to take each bite right over the plate, leaning over the table as one will do.
so i leaned over and sunk my teeth into the layers of the puff pastry, caramelized sugar and butter and as i sat back up i felt it.
a drop of water. a drop of water fell and hit my arm. and not just any drop of water -- it was warm. a warm drop of water FELL FROM THE CEILING and hit my arm.
i looked up, peering at my ceiling for that tell-tale dark stain of gathering water. i squinted my eyes to get a better look.
just the day before i had found a piece of plaster on my chair and had noticed that part of the plaster was peeling away from the pitch of the ceiling and the long, exposed beam that runs the length of my building.
i started to put it together. plaster falling off. warm water falling from above.
obviously my apartment was in the inner throes of some sort of evil poltergeistian takeover. there was only one answer: i would have to move. what was i waiting for? i would have to pack right away. who should i call? and i was slightly amazed: who knew that this stuff actually happened in real life? meanwhile, the place on my arm, hit with the hot tears of the ceiling, had a new sense of limb-self-consciousness, as if that spot had a new body awareness -- i seemed to specifically feel each centimeter of its skin coverage.
i looked up again. surely there was some explanation.
and that's when i thought to touch my hair. a little strand that must have taken a quick and unnoticed dive into my hot tea when i bent over the table to eat the delicious palmier. and my hair was indeed warm and wet to the touch. and it hung right over that spot on my arm.
and this, my friends, this is why i cannot go to see scary movies.
i don't see scary movies. why? well one, i hate being scared. two, those things stay with me for days. and by that i mean i will be scared to enter my house at night, dark shadows will seemingly team with evil making me afraid of any noise, and let's not even talk about taking a shower at night. i was the kid who would sleep with their lights on and still be a little scared. so i know better than to subject myself to the horror genre.
hollywood, however, is not being supportive. i have had to watch several trailers now, while innocently waiting for my movie to start, that have made me jump out of my skin.
and yet it seems to me that basic common sense could stop this genre from even existing. i mean hello, when certain evil things happen you make a smart choice to get the hell out.
let me give you some examples.
1. when the numbers to the upper floors are burned off the elevator buttons, DON'T GO UP THERE. even better: move out of that building. what are you waiting for?
2. when the hotel you've been hired to caretake over the winter has a maze made out of hedges, forget your signed contract: don't take that job. go back to the city. what are you waiting for?
3. when no one lives upstairs yet, the upstairs is inexplicably flooding and the gathering water is creating a "crying" ceiling in your apartment, get the hell out of there. what are you waiting for? do not think for one second that you should grab a flashlight to "check things out." instead check this out: your suitcases. there they are. pack them. now go.
i bring all this up because this afternoon i had made myself a delicious cup of tea, still steaming hot. and i had purchased one delectable lip-lickable palmier (my current favorite cookie; so inexplicably delicious it deserves its own blog post). the only problem with the palmier (not that it was a "problem"; there is nothing problematic with the palmier) was that it was a little flaky and i had to take each bite right over the plate, leaning over the table as one will do.
so i leaned over and sunk my teeth into the layers of the puff pastry, caramelized sugar and butter and as i sat back up i felt it.
a drop of water. a drop of water fell and hit my arm. and not just any drop of water -- it was warm. a warm drop of water FELL FROM THE CEILING and hit my arm.
i looked up, peering at my ceiling for that tell-tale dark stain of gathering water. i squinted my eyes to get a better look.
just the day before i had found a piece of plaster on my chair and had noticed that part of the plaster was peeling away from the pitch of the ceiling and the long, exposed beam that runs the length of my building.
i started to put it together. plaster falling off. warm water falling from above.
obviously my apartment was in the inner throes of some sort of evil poltergeistian takeover. there was only one answer: i would have to move. what was i waiting for? i would have to pack right away. who should i call? and i was slightly amazed: who knew that this stuff actually happened in real life? meanwhile, the place on my arm, hit with the hot tears of the ceiling, had a new sense of limb-self-consciousness, as if that spot had a new body awareness -- i seemed to specifically feel each centimeter of its skin coverage.
i looked up again. surely there was some explanation.
and that's when i thought to touch my hair. a little strand that must have taken a quick and unnoticed dive into my hot tea when i bent over the table to eat the delicious palmier. and my hair was indeed warm and wet to the touch. and it hung right over that spot on my arm.
and this, my friends, this is why i cannot go to see scary movies.
little pleasures
Interesting interview of the author and economist Steven Levitt who wrote a book called Freakonomics which explains all kinds of correlations. Abortion and the lowering of crime rates, crack and the upwardly mobile gang member, late-charges and parental guilt. All good. Really interesting interview.
» Freakonomics interview
My mom and I are going to Cambria today. Hopefully photos will follow. Basically the two of us are always looking for an excuse to go to Cambria. Today's excuse (no eye rolling please): Cat nip. Heart's Ease deals I mean sells the best cat nip anyone can score I mean purchase. It's da kine cat nip. And my kitty's jonesing.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
IMG_2875.JPG
Ottmar strikes again. His blog continues to be one to keep reading. I totally dig on his commentary as he learns more about and sorts out his thoughts on Buddhism and spirituality. Today's post is about non-duality and how to loosen the grip of karma.
» Ottmar's Journal
I am suffering from internet overload in the worst way. It kind of started with flickr, simply because the combination of my computer, my connection, my browser (firefox) and some random, unknown problem in the flickrverse has put a pox on my viewing capabilities. Everything moves at a snail pace. A number of images don't load. Yet I will wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and restart and wait and wait and restart and wait and then try it with IE and wait and on and on and on.
So, I haven't been able to keep up with my contacts' streams. I haven't been able to keep up with my friends' streams. And I'm missing valuable other-project time.
I'm like that rooster that pecks the piano key to get a little feed. Only there's something blocking the seed from falling. I know it's there, so I continue to hit that key. And wait. When really I should go out and about and find some ground that needs scratching or some sleepyheads that need rising.
And my email. Email = backed up.
And my head. Hit or miss these days. Overbrimming with a miasma of mutterings or just plain blank.
I make it sound bad. It's not bad. I just feel like I am missing out on something. Or that I am disappointing someone. Or...
Okay. I'm thinking too much.
-----
But this internet overload has me out of touch with the things I used to love so much. The little blogs of other crafty women who inspire me so much. Or even boing boing. I haven't been there in days. It feels like a chore. Blech.
- - -
But work is good and that's a little relief. Learning lots, creating lots, doing lots. So, while I may be suffering from Internet Overload I can at least have a sense of satisfaction at the end of the day.
- - -
Random little tidbits of life's pleasures lately
— double tall latte
— breakfast burrito
— a smattering of raindrops
— the cutest kitty with dark ears you've ever seen
— hanging out with Bret and KB if it's only a half-hour here or there
— the dark brown of the freshly plowed fields on my way to work
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
i got no clever today
my head's been swimming with thoughts and snippets for things i want to blog here. i finally get a moment, but i'm too tired. my sleep is all off whack due to the evil time change. (time changing is evil tho i love having the late days; that part is heavenly). i'm behind on nearly everything: must catch up. and speekina nothing at all: two random thoughts: chapin is the softest cat and avocados with a healthy sprinkling of salt are the most delicous things in the world.
my head's been swimming with thoughts and snippets for things i want to blog here. i finally get a moment, but i'm too tired. my sleep is all off whack due to the evil time change. (time changing is evil tho i love having the late days; that part is heavenly). i'm behind on nearly everything: must catch up. and speekina nothing at all: two random thoughts: chapin is the softest cat and avocados with a healthy sprinkling of salt are the most delicous things in the world.
backhanded astrological compliment
aka, thanks... i think
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Though much of Iceland is covered with snow, glaciers, and lava plateaus, the town of Hveragerdi is graced with greenhouses where geothermal energy is harnessed to grow bananas. You remind me of this oasis, Virgo. Though you're surrounded by what might be described as a barren wasteland, you yourself are a warm, nurturing source of fertility. No matter how inhospitable it might get outside of your circle in the next two weeks, you should just keep growing. — Rob Brezny
Here is what I think (listen up you pesky stars): I think no. I think I am tired of the inhospitable. I think I am tired of "next time things should be better." I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly done with "snooze sweet Virgo, lose." And I'm so over the "just growing" inspite of all of it all.
GROWING IS OVERRATED.
aka, thanks... i think
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Though much of Iceland is covered with snow, glaciers, and lava plateaus, the town of Hveragerdi is graced with greenhouses where geothermal energy is harnessed to grow bananas. You remind me of this oasis, Virgo. Though you're surrounded by what might be described as a barren wasteland, you yourself are a warm, nurturing source of fertility. No matter how inhospitable it might get outside of your circle in the next two weeks, you should just keep growing. — Rob Brezny
Here is what I think (listen up you pesky stars): I think no. I think I am tired of the inhospitable. I think I am tired of "next time things should be better." I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly done with "snooze sweet Virgo, lose." And I'm so over the "just growing" inspite of all of it all.
GROWING IS OVERRATED.
Cheating
You should have to PAY to go through DrJoanne's photostream.
But you don't. So consider yourself lucky while it's still gratis. Meanwhile, high tail it over to her stream for the ridiculous, the touching, the audacious, the oh-no-you-didn't.
» DrJoanne's Flickr Stream
Friday, April 01, 2005
I remember when Pope Paul VI died. In my eleven-year-old brain it seemed as if he had been Pope for a very long time. I've kept that sense, never bothering to go back and check it until today. Pope Paul VI was Pope from 1963 until 1978. Fifteen years, hardly a lifetime to me anymore. Yet at the time, fiften years was much longer than I had been alive. It might have well been decades. Anything past eleven seemed quite long indeed.
Then there was Pope John Paul I. Only he wasn't the first then, because he was the only one. But he died shortly after. This also made an impression on me: one Pope for seemingly a lifetime and the next Pope only lasts months? It seemed like a hiccup in the rhythms of the papacy.
And yet, who could hope to be Pope longer than Pope Paul VI?
Well, a dark horse from Poland, that is who. I didn't understand it at the time, the controversy, the intense interest in a spiritual man from Poland. So, he's from Poland, I thought in my little-girl head. Why are they so upset?
They appointed a Polish Pope and now, looking back... I wonder how that transition was? Difficult? Tumultuous? Feathers ruffled? Tall hats askewed? A dull longing to rebel against this forced authority?
So the Pope is nearing the end of his days. People pray for his life to be extended, but I think that is selfish. His quality of life is not so good now. Surely it would be more meaningful for him, a spiritual man, to pass through the unknown into the arms of his Father.
It is hard to imagine a life with a new Pope. A different Pope. And it is easy for the faithful to cling to their beloved pater, as well. It is human nature, I think.
Pope Paul VI — he who seemed to reign a million lifetimes to me, served for fifteen years. Pope John Paul II, the second-choice Pope from Poland, pinch hitting for John Paul I, held his seat for almost twenty-seven years, practically twice the length as PPVI. And it is amazing when you think of the world transformations that evolved during this time: the fall of communism, most notably the top-most thing, as he came from Poland. Aids. And an ever-rising voice of the fundamental believers of several religions.
I'm not Catholic and don't necessarily follow the news from Rome. I couldn't tell you if Pope John Paul II was a good pope or a bad pope. I couldn't expound upon his impact or his legacy. Yet, my heart goes out to him and the millions of his faithful believers, in their time of passing and shifting and evolving and changing. Times that are always tough and sad.
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