Passing Phase?

I got a feeling, it’s incomplete
I got a feeling, and then it got to me…
Spoon

I think I am on the cusp. Really it’s a scary place to be, because A.) I might have to change, and B.) because I realize that unless I put my money where my mouth is and get off my ass and jam, I will heretofore live in a world of shameful regret. Nobody wants that shit. It’s awful when you have nobody to blame but yourself.
I have a friend, Orlando, who once said, “Don’t let the beauty of this world blind you from the beauty of others.” He’s got a point. I have so many things going on in this world that are positive. I have my family, whom I adore. They are everything to me. I have my girl friends, which is new to me; I’ve been a guy’s girl for most of my life. I have students who love me. They compliment me on my ponytail. That’s really kind, and sort of a deceptive, desperate pandering, but I don’t mind. I have all these people who are pulling for me, hoping I’ll make it, praying for my personal fulfillment, and I’m healthy and wealthy and live in a world of opportunity. And yet, I am getting more and more stagnant and depressed. I want to help myself, but I am so afraid to go from the fire into the frying pan. I am confined to the idea that this feeling is just a passing phase, which it may well be. What will I do? Will I leave all that is sure and holy to venture into the unknown and see what’s what out there? That’s just not like me. What about the garden? What about my parents? Still, I could change, and try something new. I do like a good adventure, and there are a million ways to be happy. I am liminal, with one foot in one reality and one in a fantasy. I ask you, what shall I do?

Writers’ Challenge #4

I heard on the radio – I think it was last year- that leaves don’t just waft gently from the trees in the autumn, as poets and artists might have us all believe. Rather, they are pushed from the leaves, in a seasonal attempt of the tree to save its branches from breaking under heavy snow. That’s why the leaves that are on the ground are all different colors, in various stages of life or death; they “are released” at various times. Ah, nature! A wellspring of fascination, you are!

In celebration, I have a new writer’s challenge for you all, and this is it: Write a poem, song or piece of prose that includes these lines:

The autumn leaves
don’t fall from the trees
They jump

Oooh! Intriguing, non?

I am very interested to see what you come up with, so come on! Come up with something! Post or email me and I’ll put it on the blog at a later date. Happy Writing!

Horribly Horny

I am an avid hunter. I realize this news is surprising, dare I say even shocking to many of you, and I sense the disappointment flowing from some of you in searing, cybersonic waves. “Prithee, AVR, ” you wail, “say it isn’t so! Thou, O most gentle of leaders, art an advocate for peace, life, and all that is good and righteous in the universe! How canst thou preacheth the murder and fierce destruction of the hunt?”(Editorial Note – This is how the peaceful speak when they are impassioned. I realize it’s sorta 17th century, but I don’t make the rules here people; I just report the commentary and facts as they come in.) Others of you might recall that I am afraid of virtually all creatures that roam on land or sea (and also in trees, alleys, creeks, holes, foundations, under ground or hanging off the backs of multi-nippled rodents), and might think me too cowardly to actually wage war on nature, on account of they might look at me in a threatening manner that renders me paralyzed with apprehension. However, I assure you, I am a modern day Diana, Roman goddess of the hunt. Diana was also the goddess of chastity, which one could say made her goddess of the c….onsent. Anyway, I do hunt, but I limit my stealthy skills to only one formidable foe, an enemy so voracious, so hideous, so bereft of any moral sensibilities that grown men quiver at the sound of its name – The Tobacco/Tomato Horn Worm.

If you have not yet shuddered violently and felt your bladder constrict painfully, you are obviously not familiar with the beast. I am, because I am a farmer also. A hunter/farmer. Every year I have a beautiful garden, robust with all nature of flower and vegetable. Far be it from me to brag, but it s magnificent. Woodland creatures venture down rabbit bitten trails to enjoy my garden, and nature and I dwell in harmony, and frolic together during these visits; they cavort in the garden and I frolic too, but at a safe distance, behind locked doors. Here is a picture of a recent adorable visitor from the forests nearby:

As you can clearly see, I am happy to share the abundance of my crop with nature. I did not shoot this wild goatling, and not just because he stared me down with his crazy eye. I only kill the caterpillar.

Tobacco Hornworms start off innocuously enough. Some might even call them cute. They are spring green and have diagonal stripes on them, and they are initially about the size of the little red ‘horn’ that grows from their back end, about a half an inch. In those carefree days of their youth, even if the amateur farmer/hunter was to spot them, she might be lulled into mercy; they look so helpless and harmless, curled into the interior of an unsuspecting, Innocent tomato plant, whose delicate leaves shelter the hornworm infant from the sun. But beware, farmer/hunter! That asshole insect is even then plotting, scheming, and worse of all eating its way into your plants and your psyche! One day, before you know it, they will go from this….

to …

………………………………………………… THIS!!!!!!! Eeeeeeek!!!!!!! ………………………………………….

Isn’t it awful?! Look how gleefully it rubs its greedy little fingers together like a larval Mr. Burns!

These little Genghis Kahns are out of control gluttons when it comes to the crops I lovingly tend and fret over all summer long. They will wipe out a tomato plant overnight, no lie. They burrow in the interior of the plant by day and feed on the leaves and fruit by moonlight, not even stopping for bathroom breaks. In fact, they leave their pooh balls, or frass, like little black calling cards, tiny howdy-doo-doo’s, if you will allow me the metaphor. They munch with such impunity that you if you listen closely, you can hear them crunching your precious plants! When confronted, they rear back on their ridiculous horns and HISS at you! They are not afraid! They do not recognize your superior strength and intellect! They just carry on, gulping and pooping until there is ABSOLUTELY nothing left of your precious plant but a sad green skeleton. Then, they worm themselves into your brain.

The pitiful farmer is out of her mind with grief and rage over the senseless murder of the fruits of her labor. Slowly, she becomes obsessed. She wakes early in the morning and stalks the stalks that were once voluptuous verdant vegetables. She patiently feeds the plants until the tender new sprouts of foliage timidly uncurl their fetal fists. And then she waits, but this time she knows the signs. She buys a spelunker’s helmet and a beam of light pierces the night skies as she makes her rounds, rooting out the hornworms, peering at the undersides of leaves for the babies. She can’t sleep for waking, she goes through workdays in a haze, longing to exact her revenge.

My father sent me an article about how to dispose of hornworms. It said to concoct a soapy mixture and drown the bastards in it, but I think that’s letting them off too easy. My fellow farmer friend, Trixie, used to stomp them with her boots – their guts goosh dayglo green!-but now she feeds them to her chickens.

But not me. Those fixes are too good for those thieving, chewing, tomato Terminators!Hornworms hate the sun and heat. Their gooey, boneless bodies simply won’t tolerate it. So what I do when I find them – oh, and I will find them!- is first, delicately remove the leaf that they are unsuspectingly sampling, so as to lull them into a false sense of security – well, that and also on account of I’m scared to touch them – and then walk down to the edge of my acreage, whereat runs a busy thoroughfare. I then hurl them out on the sizzling, bubbling tar of the street. I can just hear them hissing futilely at me as they arc through the sky and hit the asphalt in the full blazing glory of a sunlit Sunday! But I have no compassion! Let ye who have reaped so wantonly the efforts of another now taste your bitter dessert! I can only hope the final vision of the guilty offenders is that of a giant silver scrotum hanging off of some dickhead’s truck as he barrels down on the hornworm, splatting him straight to hell!!!

I don’t expect all of you to understand, but you don’t know what it’s like to be a farmer/hunter in a recession. And in a health care crisis. At wartime. With cramps.

Photophrenic

So, I stumbled upon this photographer today, and my heart went all aflickr (get my hip, web-savvy reference?!), on account of I think this guy is soooo cool. His stuff is hyper-real and focused, and he elevates ordinary subjects to the sublime, twisted, or extraordinary. I find his pictures to be evocative and surreal. Really, I was almost giddy with the joy of discovering that which I consider inspirational. (By the way, I talk like this in real life. You won’t see me ending a sentence with a preposition- well, except in those frequent cases where I choose to ignore the rule on the grounds of artistic perrogative, and ‘giddy’ isn’t just for breakfast anymore, I tell you what!) I figured I’d just go ahead and post his link on my blog, even though I know you probably won’t check him out, no matter how I rave on about his work. Still and all, I like to spread the wic around.

Then I started thinking, what do I know about hip, or wic, or cool? I am the anti-Hip WcCool. I say, “What’s the haps, Paps?” My favorite joke is about a slug, and all I remember is the punchline. I like to garden and have a doily collection. That’s right, you heard me. Need I say more? Besides, this fo-tog (kinda cool, right?) is kind of dark, broody and dramatic. Maybe he’s too obvious, over the top. Maybe I don’t know what real art is. After all, I’m no artist.

And another thing: who cares what I like or don’t like? Who am I to tell you, “Hey, check this out!! You’ll love it!” Really, when you think about it, how arrogant is the whole nature of blogging? It’s as if one day I woke up and thought, “Hey! I am so hot! Look at me! Yeah, I’m talking to you! You need to check me out! I’m a genius! Do it! You will thank me later! I will change your life! I will turn you on to all the things that I love, like cheese and the color green! I will teach you, nay, I will expand your mind, about lady pirates and breast augmentations and quotes from people you may or may not have heard of! I will alert you to the horrors of pigeons and gangs of marauding raccoons and parasites that worm their way into your body via your urine stream! Good times! Stick with me, and I’ll talk about bad tv and the weird duck I saw when I rode my bike around the lake! WOOOHOO!!!!”

But then I thought, “You really bonded with Tufty” – that’s what I named the duck- and “Lots of people like to think about green and The Biggest Loser!” I’m interesting, right?

And then I thought, “Wait a minute! For whom did you start this blog? I seem to remember, little missy, a certain someone saying to herself, “I like to write! Wouldn’t it be fun to write about anything I want, and then guilt my family and friends into reading it?!” Don’t I write this blog because I like to write, like I’m flexing a dormant muscle, like I enjoy expressing myself, like its a creative outlet that makes me smile and relaxes me? Don’t I feel compelled? I do, I do! And don’t I post it because I am ready to bust out of my diary ad into the world, for anyone or no one, but hopefully for someone, who will read it and smile, or think, or sigh? In the end, don’t we all want to connect to someone else, to share time and experience and feeling, to touch and feel those around us? I do, I do! Pick me!

And then I thought, “Jeez, Louise! What the hell is wrong with you! Just post the guys link and let the chips fall where they may!!!!”

Here’s the link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brettwalker Click on any of the collections on the right side, select slideshow, and make up your own mind. I’d be very interested in what you think, so let me know if you feel inclined.

That’s what she said!

Quotes:
My cousin Alisa, when talking about health care – “Come on, people! Can’t we all just get a lung?”
“I believe in the sun, even when it isn’t shining. I believe in love, even when not feeling it. I believe in God, even when he is silent.”-Inscription on the wall where Jews were hiding from the Nazis.
“Many wealthy people are little more than janitors of their possessions.”-Frank Lloyd Wright
“I am sitting in the smallest room of my house. I have your review before me. In a moment it shall be behind me.” (Composer Max Reiger in response a critic’s letter.) Think about it….think…there ya go!
Pereant, iniquit, aui ante nos nostra dixcrunt. (Confound those who have said our remarks before us.)
“In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed.”
“The louder he talked of his honor, the faster we counted our spoons.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Everything that I have done in my life that was worthwhile, I’ve caught hell for.” -Chief Justice Earl Warren
“I had a teacher named Clayford T. Grimm…”-my friend Charles, beginning a story
“Come on, Suckles!” – my friend Mark, urging the end of that story
“Mick Jagger is definitely a robot. They’re doing some experimental shit on him for sure – head in a jar shit, I mean!” -,McAdams, on a road trip.
“Well, ok, life is beautiful! Au revoir!” -My mom, upon hanging up the phone with me.
“Yeah, men melt like butter for you. They melt like butter, and then they leave a greasy stain on whatever you’re wearing.” -Carole “Good Times” Claybour, when I was telling her about how the menfolk just can’t get enough of me.

“The worst part of having pets is knowing they can’t be with you for your entire life. The best part of having a pet is being with them for theirs.” I may have gotten the wording wrong. My friend Lillie said something like this when we were having to euthanize our family dog, Lily. My favorite quotes are the ones like “Loose lips sink ships”. I always mix them up and say them completely wrong but the point gets across somehow….”Don’t throw stones on a glass boat?” “Hey, black kettle! Don’t call me Pot.” – From Emily, who is pretty in pink.

Got any more, blogsters? Bring it!

Is it just me?

I just read an article in Time magazine online about Sarah Palin’s first big speech to an audience abroad, a group of investors in Hong Kong. Not too much is known about the content of the approximately 90 minute speech, because all press was banned, though people interviewed later said the oratory was heavy on a matter of a global interest: Alaska. Ms. Palin spoke of relevant Alaskan history, such as “Alaska’s land bridges with Asia and how animals once went across.”
I gotta say, I just loved this article. Read it yourself if you’d like: http://www.time.com/time/politics/article/0,8599,1925657,00.html The best part of it were the last lines: Shown a picture of Palin, a woman surnamed Ng, who operated a food stand near the Grand Hyatt, professed to not know who she was. “If she is rich and famous, then maybe she goes shopping nearby,” said Ng from behind her counter. “Afterward, she can come eat my fishballs.”

Sarah Palin can eat my fish balls. Classic, right?

Like I Always Say, or "Whatchu talkin’ bout, Willis?"

School is in session. In the words of countless 6th graders across our great nation, “School sucks.” Be that as it may, I was pleasantly surprised this week when one of my favorite students, Cristal, used a C.S. Lewis quote in her introductory writing sample: “It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.” What a great quote! Lewis also said, “Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.” Classic. Also kind of hot, in a 6th grade kind of way.

Personally, I love a good quote. I like what they say about the person who speaks them, how they effect and are interpreted by the listener, truths they tell, and lies they spread. Andy Warhol said, “Art is what you can get away with.” Carl Jung stated, “What we do not make conscious emerges later as fate.”

Music inspires many good sayings. Huxley said, “After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music,” while George Bernard Shaw observed that “Hell is full of musical amateurs.” Elvis Presley said, “I don’t know anything about music. In my line, you don’t have to.” My friend Reed defined his own work as ” just another 3-chord, hate-filled song.” This band of truly skanky girls I saw -I think their name was “Screamin’ Lez”-opened their set with, “This song goes out to your asshole!” They went into their ballad, ‘Sadness and Sorrow’, which had the haunting refrain of “Eat my crusty heart.” They had me at ‘asshole’. My friend Pat said, “I’ve thought about this for years, and the best name for a band I can come up with is ‘Awesome Boner’. First impressions are key.” Paul McCartney, famed lyricist, had a huge hit with these words: “Someone’s knocking at the door. Somebody’s ringing the bell. Do me a favor – open the door. Let him in.” Truer words were never spoken.

Sometimes I don’t understand quotes, but I like them anyway. Regina Spekter warns, “Beware of the weak; they’ll inherit your legs.” Dorothy Parker, a woman I usually find to be utterly sensible, wrote, “While there are hands above the table, there’s hope.” Hope of what? I can only speculate. My four year old niece says that “women are ladybugs; boys are fungus.” She may have a point there. My mom once gleefully proclaimed, “I was an oyster and the world was mine!” Bravo, Mom! You are the Alexander the Great of oysters, no doubt! I wrote down this quote by my friend Scheleen: “My mind’s all full of hog; I can’t think!” Swine Flu? Mad Pig Disease? It probably made sense at the time, but even if it didn’t, I like to use it in casual conversation whenever I can.

Actually, I have made a couple of other people’s quotes my own, but they are mostly nasty. Queens of the Stone Age sum up a feeling I know all to well when they say, “Ain’t no glory this side of the hole.” A friend of mine told me a story about something David Lee Roth said at a gig before launching into a famous Van Halen cover song, “Ice Cream Man.” I forget the quote exactly (that happens a lot), but it goes a little something like this: “There are only two flavors of ice cream: vanilla, and dick!” (That’s pretty funny, but now that I write it down, I think I may have gotten this one mostly wrong. Whatev! Who reads this much of the post anyway?) This leads me to my next favorite quote that I have stolen. In the tv show ‘Weeds’, Kevin Nealon’s character is upset because he is faced with doing some serious jail time. Worried, he begins to think out loud. “I can’t got jail,” he moans. “There’s no sushi in jail – unless you count dick!” Maybe I just like to say the word ‘dick’.

The only quote I use that I actually made up myself is: “Life may not be long, but it sure can be wide.” I think it’s real deep.

Anyhoo, here’s the third Writer’s Challenge: SEND IN YOUR QUOTES! They can be famous or infamous, yours or someone else’s, inspirational, profound, enigmatic or ridiculous. If you don’t send some in, I’ll write more. I got a million of ’em.

BONUS: Check out the “Blog of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks, which is where I got the picture at the top of this post, and then used “by permission”. http://www.unnecessaryquotes.com/

Cool cyber-places

Here are some cool cyber-places to visit:
1. http://www.helpingstepbystep.blogspot.com This blog is by a 14 year old kid, David Ashby, who is walking from Orlando, Florida to Washington, DC, over the summer. For those of you counting, that’s 1,100 miles. He’s doing this because he wants to bring attention to homeless youth in America, and so he is not only walking the walk, he’s living the life. He is only eating what he find on the streets, and he is staying in shelters. As a teacher, I am so impressed by this kid. As a human, I am humbled by him and the commitment of his friends and family. Try to check this one out before Aug. 15th.
2. http://puteraaladin.blogspot.com This site is dedicated to graphic design. It has some cool videos and interesting things. Some of them are totally over my head; what’s GIMP?
3. http://poetryjabberwocky.blogspot.com This blog is funny! The writer is an American in England, who uses a poetry form to talk about what is going on in her life or things she is currently pondering.
4. http://newpages.com This site and its blog are all about independent magazines, literary journals, bookstores, and record labels, and the blog has a lot of stuff about writing contests and programs. Way cool if you are into that stuff.
5. www.etsy.com Don’t know about etsy yet? Unbelievable! It is a huge site where people sell all kinds of stuff that they make themselves. Remember, my birthday is just around the corner!
6. http://a.parsons.edu/~dezsoa This woman is an artist who teaches at Parsons. I think she’s fabulous.
7. http://foundmagazine.com Outstanding! If you haven’t already, you must check this out!
8. http://engrish.com From Denichiwa, our Japanese correspondent.
9. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days Maybe it’s just me; I love this site and can get lost on it for hours…
10. http://informationnation.blogspot.com One of those blogs chock full o’stuff; it has some funny videos and weird/amusing/interesting photos…

I know of some other interesting sites, but they are secrets. Sorry!