dryads & satyrs, and the things that make me happy…
26 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
23 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
30 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
18 Oct 2011 1 Comment
18 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
An Interview with Bill Grundy’s corpse, via Craig Wallwork:
14 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
12 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
in Living In the Trees, My Favorite Things Tags: anniversary, Booked podcast, Bug, Chris Deal, craig wallwork, debauchery, hookers, hope, love, lunacy, marriage, Portsmouth Little Theatre, rambling, soccer, writing, zombies
WOOOO!!! Interviewed by a zombie for Craig Wallwork’s blog, which should with any luck go up about the same time this weekend as the Booked podcast i guest-hosted (i have tourette’s, they’re saints to let me anywhere near that podcast) with Chris Deal for Craig’s story ‘Revenge of the Zombie Pussy Eaters’ and general horror topics. chris is so damned smart about that stuff – screw you, chris, you hear me?? i rambled about frickin’ ted nugent and false penises on female hyenas, and pretty much everything you said was insightful and funny. yeah, i’m calling you out right here on this blog no one reads, chris deal!!
so anyway. this weekend both of those things should be up. links forthcoing, also to be found in their respective homes in the blogroll list to the right ->
only two soccer games left. i love the kids. they’re so awesome. i’m actually considering doing this again in the spring. i’m vicariously living their happiness just running and jumping and kicking and getting SNACKS!
rehearsal every night the rest of this week and all next week (except soccer night). i’m trying. my big fear is to be the ‘okay’ one – like, not the one that ruins it, but the one that ‘didn’t ruin it’ – but just barely. like keanu in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. please god don’t let me be keanu….
Friday is our five year wedding anniversary. FIVE FRICKIN’ YEARS! i forgot that we made this joke agreement to go on five year contracts and re-evaluate if we’d go another five at each interval. i sure hope we sign on for another five, because i can’t hold a job. only thing i’m good at is teaching my kid stuff and rambling and… well, to be honest i could always be a hooker.
in conclusion, i would like to say, don’t let anyone tell you that rambling like an idiot about zombies won’t get you anywhere. because it can. believe in yourself, damnit.
this is my inspirational post. i feel pretty good about it.
09 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
31 Aug 2011 Leave a Comment
25 Feb 2011 Leave a Comment
i have danced many a dance and texted many a midnight text this week – i think 2011 is becoming just a bang-up year.
there’s this thing that makes me dance, and this other thing that makes me dance, and then there are people that make me dance, and then there’s that familiar foot-jiggle that’s beginning, the first sure sign of a writing jag. the jiggling foot makes me dance.
i’ll elaborate on the dance reasons later. of course all the dancing is done to Gaga because that’s what the little man wants. and at this point i’ve got the volume cranked and am belting “GONNA LOVE YOU WITH MY HANDS TIED!’ all by myself in the car.
i should probably be doing more to spread this around. depending on the rain/ice situation in the morning, little man and i may head to guhl’s and buy up some fabric for zombie monkeys and other homemade gifts for the list and also just because i have a new list of people that i just want to do SOMETHING to make them smile. i think for some monkeys i’ll do stuffing brains, and for tamer versions there can be dangling button eyes. this should be fun. mail is fun.
i got to talk to my sister for like a half hour last night which is a wonderful miracle in itself – 2 hours of regular-people talk at top speed with over-lapping and sentence-finishing equals a half hour for us, and makes me feel very firmly rooted on the same planet as that girl.
eric starts his new job on monday – seriously things are crazy happy good. and i don’t have the cloud with this. there seems no reason to be peering at the sky constantly for the very vague edges of the jar. don’t think it’s close, anywhere close at all.
that’s what happens when spring is close enough to taste. the rain stops hurting and “cold” becomes “invigorating” and all the old skins start to flake, and out we shimmy.
oh, the title. the zombie stompers. i was really happy about certain developments involving a project that uses words like “cover,” paperback,” “printing” etc. and we can blame my impulses on barbie, whatever, but i thought that a riduculous and fabulous pair of shoes that i would keep forever would be an excellent way to commemorate my name in connection with the word “print.” enter the Limited Edition Glow In the Dark Zombie Stomper … or at least the wait list. someday, someday.
and how better to say goodnight? the cheshire cat is mewing sleepy happy under the house, the rain is drumming, and i have lovely photos of my son(sun) dressed in a tissue paper lady Gaga costume, and a shoe that will one day be mine.
i love the world.
25 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
09 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
blanche: it’s a little bizarre that one with a fondness for pachouli was able to solve my spoiled little girl gift issue in under 2 minutes.
dorothy: i’m a good problem solver. and an even better shopper. and i’ve spent the vast majority of my life wanting a daughter.
blanche: i browsed a little.
i want a daughter too. those little bathing suits with the ruffly bottoms make my heart ache.
dorothy: i know. actually, the bathing suits, underwear, tights…anything with a ruffly bottom. and those little dresses always make me want to cry.
blanche: i love little girls. but you have to remember, they’re like puppies and kittens – little girls grow up into something horrifying, 9 times out 0f 10.
dorothy: i know. that’s my attitude towards babies in general. they turn into children. then they turn into adults, and that’s almost never good.
blanche: but we should still adopt foreign girl babies simultaneously and force them to hang out.
dorothy: i’m fearful you’d be more successful in acquiring a girl baby.
blanche: nope. i have medical history, my file is thick as me. i think you’d do better,what with your penchant for steady jobs and making payments on things. my past is a wreck. yours looks impeccable on paper!!
dorothy: yes, but you’re married. and i have a ten month marriage on record. i smoke and my cat ran away.
blanche: i’m crazy on paper and my husband has a “hazardous” job.
dorothy: i’m crazy on paper too. you have prior experience.
blanche: shit. we may just have to go black market.
dorothy: i think we both knew it would one day come to this. you and me. buying black market asian babies. it was bound to happen.
blanche: well shit, neither of us are going to traverse the baby black market alone. and i’m pretty sure we’ll also go shopping together for improbably large sunglasses to wear when we go pick out our babies.
dorothy: yes. and a very big purse. to carry the baby in.
blanche: almost a tote or carry-on.
dorothy: yes. it could be used as a tote, and most people would, but i’ll be confident enough to pass it off as a purse. just remind me to not be yelling all the time about how i can’t find my lighter in this damn thing. that would completely blow my cover.
blanche: yeah, because then you would upset the baby, and your relationship would be off to a bad start. unless the baby handed you a lighter….
dorothy: That would steal my heart
blanche: i think my baby will have a very old-timey name – a name that fits no one. cecilia. opal. june.
dorothy: oh, for sure. i like cecelia. i think i’ll go with clara. charlotte. celeste. ruby.
blanche: if they were opal and ruby, they would be DESTINED to be best friends, based on their shared hatred for us for those names.
dorothy: they’d have to be. with a bond like that, and the fact that we’d force them to be friends, there’s no way they couldn’t be.
the other option would be may and june.
blanche: that’s TOO far!! it could wedge them apart. they could blame each other’s existence on their month names. i vote opal and ruby. so when are we going to new york, again? that’s where they keep the black market babies, right??
dorothy: god. to find a good black market baby, i’d have to find j—. she was always talking about black market babies. mainly she was interested in selling them, so that may be as far as we need to go.
i like opal. opal —-. that’s a good name. ruby —- is not so great, but —- doesn’t really go well with anything.
blanche: ooooh, ruby —- is actually quite good. they’re BOTH quite good.
now we just need to rustle up some cash and find j– or whatever name she runs her underground operation as….
dorothy: i have no idea what ever happened to j—. i know she went to college in d— …and i have no idea what happened to her after that.
i’ll start saving immediately
blanche: i’ll start saving immediately also.
well, shit. there goes my vagina.
dorothy: what!?! where goes your vagina?
blanche: IT’S THE ONLY THING I HAVE TO SELL!!!
dorothy: fuck. there goes my vagina.
blanche: exactly. you know, paradoxically, the only other way we could raise money to buy babies is to rent our body space as surrogates. ain’t that a bitch???
07 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
,,, and so i’m awake. feedback given on 2 pieces, photo funya explored, Deadly Women watched, mild facebook stalking complete and unsatisfactory, dogs with full bellies (ALL ELEVEN), menfolk asleep, fire humming (i know crackling would sound better, but it’s just NOT, it’s humming), ceiling stared at, head cocked, tomorrow planned for, today evaluated and found satisfactory (and more than satisfactory), domesticity planned including heels, snow falling – or drifting, or floating, slowly. slowly, slowly….
low lights and the sounds of the keys. typing to hear them, too braindead to put my fingers to good use. listening to the fire and my fingers, and the drone of a documentary voiceover.
can. i. feel. my. heartbeat. as a sensation or as a sound? sensation. i never hear it. it rattles, coughs, bounces off my ribs and laughs, large and sloppy wet. the color of meat in fridge light at midnight, in the last hours before it goes bad.
but it’s been this color since….
well, at least it’s fat, and it works. my eyes are swollen – they might be getting rounder, my contacts slide around on them a lot lately.
bridget is drumming her fingertips (no nails, they’re bitten down) on a greyish formica table in the rec room, chin on her opposite palm, waiting for me to get my shit together so she and charlotte can get on with their dastardly plans – charlotte now fancies them villians, with arched backs and arched eyebrows, black capes and snickers and mischief. bridget now knows they are children, doing things movie-style because sometimes there is simply no other way to do them….
my soft kitty entry video wouldn’t load, that sucks, the timeslot is closed. i didn’t even know what the prize was, but i wanted to enter.
that’s all, i think. for now. glad when i wake up it will be friday.
wait, there are real things!
tomorrow is adam’s big Haircut Day. he goes in a baby, comes out a man. i’ll take too many pictures. he won’t be scared, he’s too excited. I’M excited.
the puppies are 4 weeks old this morning. they eat mush from a cracked devilled eggs platter and bark and growl and wink and blink. adam has selected a large and fluffy one, not the largest but easily the most mellow – and dubbed him R2D2. now when there are puppy riots and escapes, he heads directly for the door and into the house. he wants snuggled and scratched, and to sprawl on the lap of my son, to make eye contact and sniff, to learn about their relationship. my son wants them to play all the time. he is tender and careful and comfortable – they make a good match. i like them together. every boy needs a dog.
that is all. and here are the corresponding photos:
02 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
eric and i were in the back booth at red lobster on new year’s eve, early evening – we had what the two of us consider the best booth in any place, and the best seat for each of us at the table – he was in the godfather seat in the corner, back to the wall, facing out, seeing everyone coming going in out, i was facing three dead bushes full of swallows and thrushes, and a pinking skyline above a parking lot low enough to maintain my anonymity.
we were primed for people-watching.
the thing is, smartphones.
i married an observer, and i am an observer, and we discreetly stare and discuss and assess, glance and turn and murmur, speculate and ruminate. little by little there is less behavior to observe…
people are at their most interesting when bored, waiting – slightly uncomfortable, almost where they want to be in time and space. how people fill the moments in between moments are what DEFINE them. chainsmoke and daydream. tilt against the car’s headrest and fold your lip between thumb and forefinger with an unaware scowl. shake a foot. pick at shoelaces. slyly watch others. OPENLY watch others. initiate or be drawn into small talk with strangers. blank, become lost in worlds behind their eyes. play piano on their kneecaps. hum. pace. anything. everything. nothing.
text. check facebook pages. google. thumbs thumbs thumbs. that’s it. stare at the palms of their hands, imprinting lifelines into the backs of their smartphones.
this of course has been long happening – it’s a progressive disease. observers have progressively been robbed of quiet time-wasting behavior to observe…
it really crystallized at the table: the thrushes had gone, across the aisle was another married couple (each with a smartphone in their hands), slightly below me was a row of cars. two were occupied, next to each other. a large white old lady van, a small and sleek black SVU. in the van was a woman in her late 50′s, cardigan, gold glasses. in the svu, a girl in her ealy 20′s, buddy holly glasses, severe ponytail, long thin cigarette. both glanced sporadically up and around, both waiting.
under (what i consider) normal circumstances, the similarities in behavior would end there, and any following similarities would be interesting anomalies. but those were normal circumstances 10 years ago. on new year’s eve 2010, these two women were locked in the exact same time-killing behavior: twiddling their thumbs over tiny keyboards, studying tiny screens.
disappointment is relative. the sky was pink, after all.
and as addicted to my palm as i am, or WE are (eric included), they stayed off the table during dinner. if the couple in the booth opposite had put their phones away, maybe they would have closed 2010 in a more interesting way - impulsive wig buys, psycho beach party, nudity and debauchery and laughter.
my posts are usually pointless. i thought this one was especially time-relevant.
i am in mourning for boredom.
there. sealed in internet amber.
to all of you – in 2011, look up from your mini-computers, lock eyes with the flesh closest to you – and make a stop at the lion’s den.