Flat out

Tis the season and I am flat out. With my journeys to Shreveport over the last three weeks, work and this holiday thing... shrug... can't keep up.

Go see Tracy or Neil. They are bursting with the spirit. I just don't have it in me yet. I am heading to lovely New Mexico for the holidays. My aunt has a house on the Colorado border. Hopefully I'll see a White Christmas and sing some Bing. Maybe learn to ski.

I will quit my complaining, pack my bags, and be on my merry way. I may put in a Poetry Thursday post or let you know if I learned to fry hushpuppies ( another story for another time)/

Happy Holidays; Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanza.

Ponce de Leon (Poetry Thursday)

Will you tell me a story Ponce de Leon?
Did you accomplish all you wanted?
I sought the world too
Our paths from there diverged

I moved on from the place where I first knew your name
Friends came with me for part of the way
In the middle of the journey
Curiosity had me questioning fundamentals

On San Francisco Street we saw the mourners
Gathered in one place moving in a haze
We sat among them, separate still
Anxious to move onward to the canyon

Stopping to reassess what I have garnered
Your old letters I sifted through
To hear about the places you have been
I held your hand trying to divine your thoughts

Questioning the concept of faith
I believe you searched for the wrong grail
Along with your lessons, I have found
Hope is the spring of rebirth

For Poetry Thursday, the assignment was to incorporate the streets names into a poetry journal of our travels. I decided one street would be my inspiration and another a landmark of where I had been.

Poetry Thursday -Cam's meme

1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was ...
Poem of the Road, Walt Whitman; Leave of Grass
2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and ...
Some Shakespearan Sonnet. Don't remember which one.
3. I read/don't read poetry because ...
I don't buy a lot of poetry books without a good reason. I like reading poetry, but I tend to read more fiction.
4. A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is ...
Not sure I have a favorite poem. Whitman is my favorite poet but I?s have a hard time picking a favorite.
5. I write/don't write poetry, ...
I write poetry to expression to my feelings and thoughts. Prose doesn't always allow me that outlet.
6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature... I digest poems I've read more than I do prose.
7. I find poetry... Beautiful.
8. The last time I heard poetry ... Last summer in a Maine Poetry reading.
9. I think poetry is like ... songs taking flight.

Ontology

I am one
I am all

The sum of my experiences
All who have touched me
Have I touched
Simultaneously

Memories live
through the spheres of others
A line no longer intersects
Becoming parallel to those I used to know

Intertwined
celebration and transition
Life and Death
Both begin and continue
A journey of one step

I am one
I am all

For Mary Wineinger
1916-2006
Beloved Grandmother

The Darndest Things

Being a single non-parent, I love talking to parents on the phone. I hear phrases I would never hear otherwise, especially while a child is under going potty training.

Maria: Sloane! Did you just pee on the floor? You're sticky!
Sloane: No mama.

Aileen: Iris! Do not drink out of the toilet!

Maria: Sloane! Quit throwing the clean laundry in the air. Put the clothes down. I mean it. Now!
and in the next breath: Austin get down. You are not allowed to climb to the top of couch and jump off.

Aileen: I've got to go. Iris has to go to the bathroom and if I am not there it could get messy.

Most of the time the next sentence I hear is an apology from the parent saying he/she has to hang up. I am usually laughing too hard to reply, "Just put the receiver down. I'll hold. I need the laugh." I love listening to the potty training years most of all.

I was looking forward to hearing some of these parent - kid exchanges in person. The last of my miles were expiring at the end of the December. I HAD to use them, and I did, last weekend. I went back to Atlanta! Turns out, these exchanges only happen on the phone.

My other goal for this trip was to complete my holiday shopping for the kids. Having completed the mission early Saturday, the kids, Maria, and I went to see Happy Feet. We left the theater with both kids tapping their feet through the movie parking lot, in Borders, and up the walkway at their house. Needless to say; great movie.


Go Mumbles! You are my new hero.

Doo Doo

I got nothing this week to post except for the love of a dictionary. It's a slow week creatively.

This week's Poetry Thursday is to create a poem out of obvious lies; the sky waxes green when the moon rises. I would have thought creating obvious lies would have sent my juices soaring. Oh well.

On the way to work, I thought about no longer valid pop references such as Alex P. Keaton and the eternalness of other references like Spicoli. Sometimes I feel old.

A friend once advised such thoughts, like feeling old, were poisonous and my thinking those thoughts were a contradiction. Maybe he thought those thoughts were a contradiction because I had only just showed him the saliva chewed crackers in my mouth.

Hey, doesn't everyone like a little seefood?
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Poetry Thursday Poems to read this week:
Square Traveler
RenKat
Madd

Actually just hit the comments section. All the entries this week are excellent.

Dictionary

After having a conversation about writing with Tiff, I realized I had not seen my dictionary in awhile. I think I left one of my favorite writing tools at a former job. And while the internet dictionary suffices, it does not produce the same neurotic fix I need from holding the definitive grail.

I have a need with a bound dictionary around to look up words I know, peruse for words I don't, and investigate synonyms of words in the same alphabetical region. I have to come to believe only a hard copy of the dictionary can allay my word neurosis.

Yesterday, I left at lunch for the bookstore with the sole intention of picking up said dictionary and forgoing offers of lunch in the cafe. Once at Borders, I headed straight to the reference section, ignoring all the scrumptious temptations on display. Normally I am a Webster girl, but yesterday, I picked up the Oxford American Dictionary and Thesaurus. More than 200,000 definitions and 300,000 synonyms. How could I pass it up?

True, I could have purchased a bigger, badder dictionary, but I have a small desk at home. Having a colossal version wouldn't be practical.

Once back at work, I endured much teasing about my neurosis from coworkers:

"A dictionary! How exciting!"
"You know Michelle there is this thing called the internet. I hear they have a dictionary."

Yeah, well, no snubs to http://www.m-w.com/, but I need the feel of pages in my hand. I feel better. How could I go without for so long?

Artists Date - Poetry Thursday

For Poetry Thursday, the assignment was to take ourselves on an artist date as described by Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way. The date to take yourself someplace and let your artist self take over. On this date, we needed to take a poetry snapshot of where the date happened.

On my date, I took myself to a Barnes and Noble located in an outdoor mall where music plays for the patrons walking outside. While sitting drinking my chai, I had a hard time describing the place as poetry. I began asking myself questions to induce an answer. What do I love about being in this Barnes and Noble? Why do I come here to write?

Here is what I came up with:

Bookstore

Smell of autumn on my fingers is fading
Dragging me into hibernation
Moving me to ignore the world
until the sun can yet wake me again

The sun finds my mind
Illuminating my curiosity with Books
Old wisdom and young idealists
Bound in the pages, calling for a read

Winter is coming
The season is not a place holder
tiding you over til love breaks forth
In the season of birth, Spring

Music energizes my body
Move girl, move
This world is not for the sleepy
Find your rhythm and move

Find the words and the movement
The places calling for your attention
Enjoy them all the more
Reliving the experience in writing

If you haven't read The Artist's Way, I suggest it; a great book to jump start creative expression. I bought the book many years ago as a book on tape with a supplement that contained chapter exercises. I am going to dig the book up again.

Last Night

As I was driving home, I stared at the full moon rising over the eastern sky and contemplated the coming Winter, ballot questions, and football.

Since moving to the Boston area, I realized I have learned more about football than I have ever wanted. Why? Boston is a sports lovers' paradise. This town is drenched in sports tradition. You can't help but learn about hockey, football, basketball, and, my own life love, baseball at a college, high school, and primary school level. Sports is every where.

I was surprised to learn I admire Peyton Manning; one of the few quarterbacks in the NFL who can call his own plays- not something Brady does. I would never know the man's name if the Pats did not have a pre-game and post game in-depth analysis every week. (On Sunday, the Pats lost to the Colts, Manning's team, 27-20.)

The ballot questions for today's election?
Question 1: Should stores that sell food to be eaten elsewhere be allowed to sell wine? (Right now only liquor stores can sell any alcohol which will be consumed elsewhere.)

Question one has sparked much controversy and way too many ad campaigns for and against. What surprises me is neither side has offered up one fact or semi-truth to support their case.

My question, aside from my opinion, remained unanswered from the pundits: What are the socio-economic repercussions from answering yes or no?

Anyhow the moon was my solace and winter inevitable.

Poetry Thursday: Favorite Verses

Poetry Thursday's assignment this week is to put forth favorite verses.
My hero Walt Whitman wrote many I love:

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine
From the first poem, One's Self I Sing, in Leaves of Grass

One's Self pulled me into Leaves of Grass. I remember traveling in my twenties with no particular purpose other than the journey. Walt calls those travels back for me.

Many songs also take me back in time to journeys of my life. Some physical. Some philosophical.

Four of us traveled to see my friend Aileen graduate from University of Colorado at Boulder. On the way we stopped to see the Grand Canyon and Vegas. I was the night driver. My experience is limited by moonlight in many cases. However, I made up lyrics to I Wanna Be Sedated while traveling along I70. Sang them while everyone else was asleep. (I am an only child. I know how to keep myself entertained.)

I have been listening to Elvis lately; Costello that is. Oliver's Army sticks with me more and more.

My mind goes sleep walking
While I am putting the world to right

For some reason I combine this verse with a Ramones' verse from Do you remember Rock n Roll Radio?

It's the end of the 70s
It's the end of the century

In my head I end up with:

My mind goes sleep walking
While I am putting the world to right
It's the end of the 70s
It's the end of the century

The Run

Wordsmiths Unlimited puts forth a challenge each month to write a story based on a picture. (My challenge is to get the picture to post. I'll fight with Blogger later.) Go check the incredible stories posted this month.

The Run

"No, you run through first."

"But I thought of this place."

"Yeah, means you go first."

"We'll go together."

"Yeah, ok."

Even though we had an agreement and counted to three, I ran first; full out. My legs extended as far they could go, as quickly as they could go. I ran to the end of the chapel and ducked through the doorway. I turned to see Sam midway through the building. His legs, shorter than mine, were moving at a slower pace.

Seeing him behind me, I pushed through the small opening between the double doors leading back out to the open field. I laid down on the broken steps outside. Part of the field was encroaching on the steps, pushing up through the broken stones. From the where I lay between the top step and the next step down, the field stretched before me, then the trees an acre or so beyond, and peaking through the trees was the sun.

The old church was enclosed by natural boundaries. A river was at the left. The field and forest started at the right and merged at front. From the back, where we came was a trail through a wood leading back to our houses.

All the kids came here to play. The fields were overgrown and uncared for like the church. What lay beyond the trees was Indian country. Our folks promised any child a sound lashing who ventured into the forest.

Sam emerged a second later. I expected him to lie next to me, but he didn't. I could feel Sam standing behind me and hear his breathing, labored. I turned to look at him. Sam's face was pale and sweaty.

"Are you ok?"

No answer.

I stood up and moved Sam into a sitting position. Studying his face I realized Sam was afraid. Sam was never afraid and seeing him so, I felt the beginning of fear creep up my spine.

I tried to ask him questions about what he saw, but Sam wouldn't answer. His face grew paler even though his breathing became less shallow. Then I saw it, a small claw sticking out from the back of his head. Sam's thick hair covered much of the claw which could have been the reason I didn't see it at first. In honesty, I was too afraid to do much of survey of Sam. My attention was focused on the chapel. I expected something to come out to explain the fear before my eyes.

I knew now I needed to get Sam home, but doing so meant going back into the chapel. I tried to be logical. I played here a thousand times. All the kids did. The fear had gripped my spine now and no amount of reasoning would shake it.

I grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him up gathering what little courage I could. I didn't tell Sam what we were going to do but I knew he knew anyway. The run was only thirty feet. Should not take us more than a minute.

We held hands fast, took a breath, and ran, right into a flurry of black wings.

Fall Leaves

The fire trees are muted, a week now past.
No longer does the bright yellow drift into ruby tops.

A Nor'easter blew in Saturday.
Gale force wind and rain left a toll.

The current aspect of leaves would make an impressionist proud.

Studying the trees like a painting,
from the outside, huddled in my jacket


Sunday 10/29/2006

Clan of the Cave Bear

Last night at some point my power went off. I woke up during the middle of the night to gather more covers and huddle under them, oblivious to the reason why I was cold. I was not aware something was off until this morning.

I did not realize the power was out until I attempted two light switches. The house was frosty and too dark. I had hot water but no heat. No light from the clocks. I went through the house and lit candles in every room, bring several to congregate in what ever room I needed.

The power outage reminded me how my instincts and nature change when autumn starts to give away to winter. Scientists will tell you man descended from apes. I disagree. My instincts tell my ancestry is from bears.

When a cold wind blows and the sun begins to hide, I begin to wake later and later wanting the dawn to show its face before I think of showing mine. By December, I think only a flicker of warmth will move me grudgingly out of bed and house. Oh yes, my ancestors are bears.
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Speaking of Clan of Cave Bears : I will attempt the meme Cincy sent me.

1. One book that changed your life: Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Walt was the first poet whose words captured me. I had never thought about poetry as an art form I'd like until I read his works. Rereading his poems years later, I realized I structure much of my own sentences and thoughts in verse.

2. One book that you've read more than once: This question is a little more difficult. Do I go completely feminine cliche and say Pride and Prejudice- Jane Austen? I am enthralled with Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo. Every time I move or undergo big changes in my life, I read The Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis and A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle.

3. One book you'd want on a desert island: Does a notebook with a pack of pens count? If not, Les Miserable - Victor Hugo because I keep meaning to read it and haven't yet or maybe D.H. Lawrence's poetry.

4. One book that made you laugh: The Secret of the Chimney's by Agatha Christy. Christy, in the novel, makes fun of herself, detective, and mysteries in a subtle. The Sweet Potato Queen's Guide to Love had me laughing out loud on a plane.

5. One book that made you cry: Harry Potter: The Order of the Phoenix- J.K. Rowling. Cheesy maybe, but I cried. A Severed Wasp by L'Engle, one of her many adult books, immensely engaging and moving.

6. One book you wish had been written: Any of the short stories I've stopped and started. Ok reality. Any work by L'Engle.

7. One book you wish had never been written: Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. I skipped fifty pages of this book. The woman is repetitive in the extreme. I stopped caring about her characters seventy pages in under the weight of her exhaustive message. Only a friend's encouragement kept me reading through the end. I never would want to lecture my readers to death. Many people love her though.

8. One book you're currently reading: Young Patriots by Charles Cerami. Non-fiction books take forever for me to get through. I've been at this book for two months. Last non-fiction book I read, seven years ago, was Disraeli - Edgar J. Feuchtwanger and I am two thirds away from finishing. Sounds crazy but I love the Disraeli book.

9. One book you've been meaning to read: Too many to choose one. Les Miserable by Hugo listed above.

Don't know why...

This article struck me as hilarious. If you don't want to read it, I'll summarize. To avoid missing a flight, a man called in a bomb threat to delay the plane from taking off.

His lawyer says, "This was a momentary gross lapse in judgment."

Ya think?

Sends chuckles throughout my heart; sick I know.


Does anyone know what type of thermos to buy that will keep liquids, coffee, hot and not make the liquid taste like aluminum?

The Day the Music Place Died

I'm in mourning. CBGB closed its doors last night. (photos courtesy of yahoo.)

Suicidal Squirrels

Yup, it's that time of year again; leaves changing, temperatures dropping, and squirrels committing suicide.

The travesty in the squirrel population is seen everywhere; deflated fur and guts in the middle of the road, on the side of the road, even on the sidewalks. The mass life exodus is a mournful time for those of us witnessing the squished little bodies along the highways.

Why would squirrels be so unhappy as to take their life. Squirrels have had a happy summer, languishing in the sun, stealing from bird feeders, etc.

Yesterday on my way into work, a squirrel ran across five lanes of the interstate traffic without a scratch; one of the unluckiest suicide attempts ever witnessed.

I would say the demise in the squirrel population during the fall is one of nature's mysteries, much like the beaching of whales. Say a prayer for the suicidal squirrel whose poor body you pass next time.

Stalking the Stalker

A former co-worker, Denis, recently revealed he had a stalker while at the workplace (my current one). After much questioning, I came to the conclusion the stalker Denis referred to was a girl who liked him.

Denis sent me a recent email asking after his stalker. Below is my response.

Monday 10:00 am - caught site of stalker in hallway. Plan was made to stalk the stalker.
Monday 10:01 am - followed stalker. Heard sniffling. Stalker may be missing stalkee.
Monday 10:02 am - stalker sneezed. Stalker has allergies or a cold.
Monday 10:02 am - bored following stalker. Need new plan.

Tuesday 10:00 am - decided to take up smoking. Bought pack of Virginia Slims in attempt to fit in with smoking crowd and look feminine at the same time.
Tuesday 10:01 am - stalker spotted at smoking spot. Pulled out cigarettes and lit up.
Tuesday 10:01 am - coughed up a lung and had asthma attacked. Sidelined and stalker lost.

Wednesday 9:42 am - new plan in place and new time.
Wednesday 9:43 am - conferred with Carrieann (co-worker). Will place bug in stalker's phone. I will distract stalker and Carrieann will place bug in phone. (We think an ant will work)

Plans for Thursday - dress in black. Look up planting bugs on internet. Play Mission Impossible theme song while working (song on cell phone - so covered.) Report back to stalkee.

Literacy Project

In an every increasing need to be literate, I have embarked on a new campaign; the Starbucks campaign. The company now places quotes, "The way I see it", on the back of their coffee cups as I discovered a couple of weeks ago.

Today my cup has:

I think when we get angry at others, most of the time, we're really angry at ourselves. It is not "us verses them" - we are all connected. Perhaps the anger comes in how much of "us" we see in "them". Whether it is cutting someone off or taking more than one's share, perhaps we are angry at ourselves for doing similar things every day. In any case change will come when we stop pointing the finger and start looking in the mirror. Christina Morton- Starbucks shift supervisor.

Do you think she's referring to customers?

I am excited to learn all the quotes Starbucks uses on their cups of coffee. I am a little worried though. Starbucks is now quoting their own staff on the cups. Do you think they ran out of people to quote?

How many quotes do I need to read before I am well read?

Primary

I went to the polls yesterday to vote in the Mass. primary elections and was disgusted by some of the experience. (To preface, let's just say that I believe voting is the most important action that anyone can undertake if you want to influence how local, state, and national governments are run.)

First off I am listed as an independent. The woman who greeted me at the polls should ask me what ticket I want to vote on Republican or Democrat. She did neither. I asked the woman how I was listed. I am correctly listed.

Once I got to the voting booth, I noticed that the primary ticket had several offices where only one candidate was listed. Unopposed candidates irk me to no end. Why? An unopposed candidate is less likely to be held accountable for his actions. I am from the old school of believing that any elected official works for me because I help pay his salary.

Even though I vote in a small town, the turnout was unbelievably low. I did not have to wait, as I normally do, for a booth. I was the only voter in the booths.

I wonder if our country is reaching a new level of apathy. Hope not.
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A J Folmer storyupdate: She has hired a lawyer and will be fighting her charges in court. I do not know if she plans to sue the police department. If so, I will update you on the outcome.

The Chronology of My Arrest - Post taken down

I had a post here I rec'd by email.

I thought the account interesting and remarkable.

I tried to take out any identifying markers in the story while still giving full credit to the author. But I broke a rule. I did not get permission to post.

I am sorry J. Folmer and I have taken your post down.