andrea, and snow…

i’ve been dreaming andrea into a lot of dreams….

there’s a sort of disconnection from the real world going on right now, that feeling of all the kitestrings being pulled waaay too tight – and i’m hiding box cutters behnd my back and sighing and wondering what to do, because there aren’t that many strings left and who knows if it’s the eggshell dome sky or  holiday loneliness or typical winter melancholy clouding my judgement as to whether i should slash the strings or wait…. ugh too much purple prose.

for three, i do not hold the blade. andrea, not for you. a—-, i love you, come back when you’re ready and send pictures of your cats in the meantime if you get the chance.  m—, you may or may not hold scissor of your own, but i’m happy to let you drift in and out as you please.

in the dreams, i can see the scenes i want to write, and sometimes andrea is wearing the corset with the red yarn laces that run up the side, over top the places where the scars would be – and other times i pass her while i run down the street, she’s at an iron table reading a newspaper, posture flawless, and i think  “hey, that’s…”  but whatever i’m chasing takes precedence and i run on, barefoot.

h— is troubling. i believe she is attacking the string with a chainsaw, trying to make sense of her world by eliminating disagreeable people. and i keep plucking at the string, seeing what will happen. sending mixed vibrations down the line to louisiana, thinking “maybe if i were MORE offensive, she’d pick up the phone…”

i’ve found some new strings, and i’m half-heartedly tugging, trying to keep emotional investment out of it at this juncture. k—, with the use of candles, pulling you slowly into my orbit if possible… and m—, we just dropped the string for many years. i’m jiggling rather than pulling.

all of you shall be written in. each in your own shop, in a town that doesn’t exist, each with a list of words or phrases that will emerge if prompted by the yank of a string or the twist of a key.

boring melancholy!! but no emotion fits wet december as snugly. like a latex glove. on an embalmer. in a mint green room in the basement.

I NEED SNOW.

so andrea, what’s up? how is life? do you OWN a corset, and will you be in town for the holidays?  i have a new book for you, and wonder if there’s a knot in the string somewhere, or a snag…. 

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RAIN!!

APOCALYPSE! FLOODS! HAIL! STANDING WATER! TORNADO WARNINGS! WATER! all that stuff.

the hummingbirds are drinking in the interims between these storm bursts. they seem calm, so i guess there’s no reason to freak out. hummingbird nests are (maybe?) more fragile than our domicile.

today was the end-of-storygroup party. summer group starts mid-june, so we’ll be there. they do cool stuff – ventriloquists, have people from the zoo, go to puppet shows etc.

Nelsonville Music Fest this weekend – George Jones, Justin Townes Earle, Flaming Lips, Neko Case, bluegrass galore – i love it!! even sean lennon’s band is going to be there but i forget what it’s called. miss the lil sis for that one…

mother’s day week was a blast – the day was iffy, adam sick and lots of running. eric made me dinner, and i’m pretty much loved, humoured, babied all the time anyway, so i’ve got it pretty damned good.

we’re watching Spirit. adam wants to go swimming. me, too, actually. all this rain makes me think of Big Fish – i’m drying out….

pertinent link: http://nelsonvillefest.org/

frozen easter

LIBRARY.

TUESDAY.

STORYGROUP EASTER PARTY.

pouring rain, clothes soaked and drying too slowly in the 50degree indoor temperature. adam is soooo shy, and at barely 3 he has a crush on the tallest, oldest, loudest girl in the group. she’s like phillip on SNL that mike myers used to play, except with long curly brown hair and a huge smile.

the fiends have been released, they are storming  the room, baskets in hand, to find the eggs that have been hidden among the stacks. i must protect my head with my arms…..

zombie stomper

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.

Poison Ivy & Harley Quinn

headcold household, day 3, last day. over the course of sunday and yesterday, eric and adam have managed to watch almost all 3 original star wars movies – they have 45 minutes of Return of the Jedi left, which i suspect they will finish tonight. adam’s favorite is R2D2, which he pronounces slighly different each time. he gets a consistent 3 out of 4 of the letter/number combo right. he also says yoda is a cat, a GIRL cat, and calls him toyoda (like “toyota,”  hot wheels enthusiast that he is) half the time. it’s been a pretty good sick household. characterized mainly by exhaustion and mouth-breathing as opposed to crankiness and coughing – i’ll take the former combination any day.

but we’re getting better. if eric could curl up on the couch with us it would almost be a pleasant sickness, it’s just bone-cold rain and grey skies outside the last few days anyway. being sick while the sun shines is a waste. being sick while it rains cold november – i’m gonna pull myslef quickly away from a guns n roses reference and move along – anyway, sick in this weather is just good time management. get the change of seasons colds out of the way before the sun comes back.

plus, cold pills make me sleep like the dead, so i’ve not been fighting the insomnia. i sleep through the night and hear nothing – unless adam speaks. it’s a weird characteristic of motherhood – eric can rattle around in the room, fight the dogs on the porch, i don’t hear a thing – but if the kid sits up across the hall and peeps “mommy?”  i’m immediately conscious. only children’s voices would call people back through a ouija board, i think. only your child’s voice could pull you back from the dead places. morbid maybe in what is essentially a christmas shopping post, but true. you can only wake your parents from the dead….

SO. point was, i started wandering around on etsy looking for xmas presents of the affordable and original variety while the boys bonded over “light savers,” and while shopping for a nameless lady friend in the owl watch section i ended up in the batman section and remembered either falsely or by actual memory her fondness for Poison Ivy, and from there of course wandered into the bizarre relationship with Harley Quinn, whom i only knew a few details about – since last night i have submerged myself in a cold pill haze of comic book pages, cartoon clips and fan art based around Ivy & Harley, and may have stumbled into an entirely new framework to show love, and caricature our relationship in a fun and gorgeous way…. that is, IF her love of Poison Ivy is not false memory…. 

all i’ve actually ordered so far is 2 sets of aqua globes for the females-in-law. kiddo is eating appleasauce and mouth-breathing watching ppg while i drink coffee and watch batman cartoons on youtube…. and you know what?? poison ivy was based on bettie page. whoda thought?

http://media.photobucket.com/image/poison+ivy+harley+quinn/WolfsRain0617/Alternative%2520ART/poisoniveanharley.jpg