half way thru the flight

i dont know what to do with it

2009-07-27T16:33:00.000-07:00

this was my back yp blog when the original dissappeared might call it simulacrum

2009-05-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

my blog dissappeared?

cat at her best

2009-04-26T08:17:00.000-07:00

2009-04-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

Well now, I'm back to life as it was, guess last week must have been life as it isn't. My car is mobile once again after a most expensive transmission replacement. But I have fallen in love with the lite rail. The sad part is it goes very few places and by the Bank One Ballpark, I mean Chase field is one of those few places. so if Bank One got bought out by Chase Bank, it could be called the JP Morgan ball field as that's really who owns Chase bank.

Well who knows were that could go in this teetering economy, and whats in a name anyway. Banks are changing their names more often then me. My reasoning is more theater then anything. Like vanity plates on a car. or a new pair of shoes. And then I also work at Target (French owned) but actually I am employed by Boots a cosmetic corporation from England. But whats in a pedigree.

babbling just wasting time until I get ready for work. I don't feel like going today. But onward and upward. bills to be paid. :+)

Signs of a bad economy

2009-04-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

cats are so dramatic

I usually don't put stuff out of e-mails on my blog but this is just to funny.

put me over the edge

2009-04-16T09:32:00.000-07:00

so last night after writing my not so winy blog post about winy things, I decided to read. I picked up Amy Tans latest " Saving Fish From Drowning" a while back. The first sentence had a read more sort of atittude and I like Amy Tans style. Well, I put that copy down and wandered around the Borders some more and when I was ready to check out I grabbed a copy of aformentioned novel and checked out. That was 3 weeks ago. Last night when I picked it up wouldn''t ya know, the first 15 pages were gone. And who know where the sales slip is. Not to mention the Borders book store is 10 miles away. No biggie with a car. Shit I say.

Life on the flying saucer

2009-04-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

How amazing the new Light Rail Transit is here in the Valley of the Sun. There’s a station about 6 blocks from my house and it goes all the way to Tempe with the usual variety of stops, one being right in front of Chase Baseball stadium, where I work when the Diamond backs are in town. Good thing too, as my cars transmission bit the dust last week. I thought it was just a run of the mill clutch problem, but no, it’s a very expensive transmission failure.

Ok, I’ve lived without a car before, and rapid transit is do-able in Phoenix. And this is a bike friendly town. So I will fix the flat tires on my bike and maybe even spring for a tune-up. And wouldn’t ya know, it’s not just a tune-up but a shifter malady. New Shimono gears, $100.00+. So much for the new gel seat. But at least I have a light bike that can be thrown on the bus for the longer halls. And I’ll get back in shape for the liver I’m waiting for.

My little apartment is sweet. Great neighbors, offered to give me rides if I need them. And the bugs are gone I think. Oh, bet I didn’t mention the bugs did I. Well I got a free couch back before I left Cottonwood. Nice comfee couch and I had to store it for 3 weeks at the cute place(though a bit rough around the edges) by the river in Sedona. I was going to move to before I just decided to bite the bullet and make the big move to Phoenix to be closer to my transplant hospital and transplant team of great doctors and nurses. Well somewhere along the line this couch acquired bed bugs, or they could have been here all along and found a bug hotel in my couch. Icky, or should I say itchy.

But I do have two jobs now. I was sure sweating that for awhile. Three months and then I land two. One will have to go though. An hour and a half on the bus one way with a ten minute hike to and from the bus….. 2 hours if all goes well… well I think not. I have such a hard time with quitting. I don’t even really like the job anyway but I will have to pry it out of my system with a crow bar. I’ve even had thoughts of acting bad and getting fired. Sounds like my last relationship. Hmm, better have a look at that.

And I suppose not having a car will change the nature of my friendship with the Poetry Man as I won’t be peddling my bike to Sedona anytime soon. I may never get in that good of shape again in this lifetime. Darn. That was the one thing I could count on to be sweet and far removed from the bustle of my life. Well I’m certain it will just change, not be lost forever. And isn’t that what it’s all about learning how to ride out life and all of its many turns? Lucy Blu seems to be pretty content and she’s on the same flying saucer as me. Cute cat.

no wonder I haven't written for a while

2009-04-09T10:57:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure who was more crushed

2009-03-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

Actually no damage was done, just a few hurt feelings.

German Shepherd puppies for sale

2009-03-23T13:21:00.000-07:00

Top of the line German Shephard's. Isn't this puppy cute? My job to day was to take photographs of these adorable dogs. Now how fun is that?

Lucy Blu

2009-03-18T21:37:00.000-07:00

Check it out

2009-03-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

The Rocky Mountain News folded so the writers to it upon themselves to put this together.

http://www.iwantmyrocky.com/

and then theres the Seattle Post

http://www.seattlepi.com/

Escape and the critically endangered Ethiopian Wolf

2009-03-15T23:46:00.000-07:00

I'm tired. The world as it is, shackled to my ankle, has a direct connection to this condition. no more news, or maybe just a little bit. (?) I've picked up the latest book written about Lucy. "Lucy's Legacy the Quest for Human Origins". as I read paleontology speak written for non-majors, I notice I really don't know much about Ethiopia, well the famine comes to mind. And I wonder. DC Johanson, the author, mentions political unrest occasionally making his digs hard to do, and the government occasionally booting them out of the country.

So, I look Ethiopia up, the famine is over by the way, but the atrocity's that country has been thru and continues to go through startle me. I listen to the news, how did I miss all this. The country borders on Somalia, that should be a clue. But thats not my point. I'm really amazed how Mr Johanson can be so focused. His book is about Lucy and all the questions that have come of that unearthing discovery. Focus. My point.

No mention, at least not so far, of the 6 critically endangered species, the 4 endangered species, and the 25 vulnerable species, that have been created do to the political unrest or other wise known as War with all it's heinousness. Geez, I thought I should still be eating everything on my plate because children are starving there. It would seem Ethiopia hasn't been newsworthy since.

But thats not the upshot of the book. Maybe it speaks to a more informed audience. What ever. I'm impressed by the mans focus on his passion. Directed. He does tell a story of bureaucratic hoops but mostly of his love for the bones and the break thru advances in DNA research to back his thesis. And in turn he passes on to me a step out of my self and away from the ball and chain I have obsessed on recently. Between the news and my health, both get in the way of living lighter. Lucy, much like Lucy the cat, helps relieve me of the burdons I bestow on my being. Priceless.

2009-03-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

n medicine (gastroenterology), esophageal varices are extremely dilated sub-mucosal veins in the esophagus. They are most often a consequence of portal hypertension, such as may be seen with cirrhosis; patients with esophageal varices have a strong tendency to developbleeding.

The lastest thing in my life.

My crazy X B F burned over 30% of his body heating his house with kerosine. They pulled the plug to days ago. He had tons of other health problems and last time I talked to him he wasn't really all that keene on life anyway. But I'll miss talking to him. The selfish person that I am.

I have a job now. can't remember half the stuff I'm supposed to remember. or should I say it comes and goes really. Spot o one minute - left field the next.

and then theres the duck in the pool at my house. I say Duck a la orange and he just quacks.

got the job

2009-02-16T22:21:00.000-08:00

2 days a week $10.50 an hour. cool! Thanks every one for the vote of confidence. This picture is the front of the condos next door where I live. They were looking for a noisy bungler but never found him. He hasn't been to my place yet but if he managed to get in he would probably be to mystified by how I got everything in here let alone how he might get it out.

I'm afraid to talk about it

2009-02-08T09:52:00.000-08:00

I might have a job to go to every week-end. I did the face to face interview yesterday.. after staying up almost all night stressing out. It's a job selling makeup. My makeup has become old. The black clothes I was to wear for the interview are all covered in spots.. the remnants of the job of yesteryear. Bleach, haircolor, lunch... And one pair of black shoes. High heals. They always put me in a good mood after wearing them for about 10 minutes. But geez a potential job in a few weeks.

So then thinks I, (I should never think), I have a little extra money and there is a Kolls and a cheap shoes place and I have my calculator. so I have some cheap cute black clothes. and an overdrawn checking account. I cant even seem to work the calculator how am I gonna work a job, so another sleepless night goes by. And its raining.

I really do need to get over to my friends and unload the boxes of stuff that I brought back form Cottonwood. So When I go up next week there will be room for more. Won't have to pay the locker rent when its all stacked at my g-friends. I really hate being broke. This could be a trashy novel day. the rain and my comfortable bed.

I have an interview up next week. And lots of resumes out. I know I know. It's the times.Any body need a haircut?

just in general

2009-01-31T16:41:00.000-08:00

I had a great time visiting with Madame You See at the airport. I find that exiting to talk with some one for periods of time and then have a face to face. I met 2 of my long term BF's that way and met my put up for adoption at birth daughter that way. An adventure in separating the preconceived from the more or less concrete. I've always based my reality way to much in appearance and body language. And certainly that is all important stuff but when I'm not being distracted by it I can really hear what some one is saying. Not to mention all the posturing I am likely to through into the mix.

well enough of that babble of useless dribble. Even more useless appears to be all the job apps and resumes I've papered the town with. a few bites but just not the right bite. I don't think I've been this long without a job in my life. Well there was the year I waited for SSDI to decide I really was sick and poor but I was always doing something around the house, school, Dog park committee and so 4th.

And what about them fierce little red birds. Not so bad for the worst team in the NFL against the 5 time super bowl champs. Make that 6. And Springsteen did my favorite song. Baby, tramps like us, we were born to run. weelll guess that would be enough out of me for now. I really don't have much to say. but maybe someday I will. Just never know what day.

Peace

sky lines

2009-01-25T22:17:00.000-08:00

Phoenix

2009-01-24T15:00:00.000-08:00

Here I am in my tiny little space in the Valley of the Sun. We have a football team going to the super bowl. It's 70 degrees. My cat has cat friends. Geez I have friends. Theres an orange tree in my yard, but almost all the oranges are gone now. They were good. I have a swimming pool. I have internet access for a price I really can't afford. Unless, of course I land a job. The tricky part. My liver doesn't appear to be getting much worse. Actually it has gotten better since I quit my job in corporate america. Not working seems to agree with my liver. It doesn't agree with me. Life in this country I suspect is in for a bumpy right into the unknown. I would enjoy it more if I was working.I should be cleaning my little house but no, I am blogging. It's my way to get a blog pinched out. just give me a dirty house. And best yet, one of my favorite bloggers is laying up at the Phoenix airport for a few hours next week and we are gonna have coffee.

Lnagston Hughes Poem

2009-01-21T09:15:00.000-08:00

Let America Be America Again
by Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

alone

2009-01-09T18:22:00.000-08:00

I made it. One U-haul and three car trips. Mostly did it my self. but many thanks to my friends Mickey and Gary who helped haul. Today I mostly arranged my little space. It feels like home. Just me. and of course Lucy Blu. No roommates, boyfriends, or other braindrains. It's been a long time. I never realized how much being alone agrees with me. Once, one of the many boyfriends I lived with, felt this good. one. hmmmm No internet yet. So I am wasting money in a internet cafe. Next month. The first thing I'm gonna do.

snow bird

2008-12-25T04:03:00.000-08:00

I'm moving to the city of the sun (Phoenix) next week. My work is done here. Onward and upward so it's been said. Baby it's cold up here and my old bones just rebel. Friday I go down and check all my resources/recourses. Wish me well. I will miss the poetry man,:+( but whats an hour and a half. And it's better than dope.

life everlasting

2008-12-18T21:34:00.000-08:00

Dust in the wind

Children of faith
Principled in spite
Of the apparent chaos
My house is your house
They say with conviction
In the turbulent world
of evolution
when that dream is
Metamorphosis
that kiss that melted my heart
Like lampwax
Won’t even become
Dust in the wind

swing low, sweet chariot

2008-12-05T08:43:00.000-08:00

On my way back from Big Sur my brakes went out. I found out my Uncle had died and the wake would be held two days after I reunited with home. My friend rented me a car and back to CA I went to do the family thing (think eggshells). Got home and had the brakes fixed. Went to work that night. I decided to move into Sedona to a sweet little place on the river. I have a three week house sitting job starting tonight. A lump has appeared in my wrist - it's called a ganglion cyst. I dreamed I was stuck in sap and some day I would be found immortalized like a bug in amber.

and there were zebras

2008-11-28T12:38:00.000-08:00

the next day the sun came out

2008-11-28T12:35:00.000-08:00

dogs and cats

2008-11-26T18:02:00.000-08:00

drenched

2008-11-26T16:08:00.000-08:00

big sur

2008-11-20T09:11:00.000-08:00

I'm going to Big Sur for thanks giving. The ocean has been roaring in my ears at night when I sleep, even the I-Pod doesn't clear it. Oh maybe it is the leftovers from a round of sulfa drugs I took a few years ago, but i would rather it be the ocean beckoning me. either way i'm going. last year i went with polka dot pete theis year i am going with the poetry man. Lucy Blu will stay home with uncle Noel and the cat cuzuns, rollie and sweeker.

it will be mellow. Unlike what my friend Asha is going thru in central america. i'v sworn off other country's since i started getting sick a few years ago. but it hasn't stopped me from adventuring 4th in this one. Nothing like I was inclined 2 in the late 60's and early 70's. but certainly safer. no hitchhiking, no passing out under bridges, no panhandling... oh those where the days.

other sky

2008-11-09T20:07:00.000-08:00

big sky

2008-11-09T19:38:00.000-08:00

2008-11-05T09:43:00.000-08:00

2008-11-05T09:40:00.000-08:00

gotta love Wanda

2008-10-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

Wanda For President

thanks to everyone who sent me this pic

2008-10-24T13:07:00.000-07:00

hangen'

2008-10-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

Seems like i haven't written a post in a coons age. how ever old that is. one of those euphemism's from my childhood that my mother always tossed about. I hated it when she did that. all that hokey shit she came up with. and now, here i am, sounding like my mother, looking like my grandmother, and feeling like I'm ready for my next incarnation.

I've been hangen' over at myspace. simple stuff. not to much thinking involved. just a flash in the pan and then I can stay on the boat for weeks and never write a thing. so has become my life right now. just don't wanna get off that warm boat.

My job went from 2 days a week to 4 days a week. one would think wtf??? 4 days a week should be cruzen' but.... it;s just a reminder that the hcv is alive and kicken ass on my liver. which in turn takes it;s toll on every other organ in my body. including my brain. brain fog. not so bad. But people that know me, it's really noticeable. i can look back on this blog... shit it's really disconcerting.

das ist abar shada. another one of those euph's

a movie

2008-10-15T16:49:00.000-07:00

What is the question?

2008-10-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

Poverty, it's just to big of a subject to write about. I'm poor but I do get by on a tiny little retirement. and I can still work a very part time. the bills get paid. somewhere in the not so distant future I won't be able to work and my tiny little retirement isn't gonna cut it. And who knows the way the economy is tanking right now if it will even matter. I don't own a home. I choice I made. I really feel bad for the people that invested in one with shaky balloon payments and a wish and a promise. The only ones coming out of that meltdown smelling pretty are the executive turds at Fannie May and Freddy Mack. Hope their golden parachutes land in the ocean.

But what about real poverty. The kind we don't even know in this country. The kind found in countries like Haiti, India, Afghanistan....I don't know what the answers are. I'm not even sure what the questions are. As I knock thru life trying to get by, I don't even know what the answers are for my self. but it certainly does put my life in perspective when I think beyond my nose. And to keep from slitting my throat I just stay in the here and now,and do the best i can to not cause pain and suffering to others.

what do you have to say?

2008-10-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty from Blog Action Day on Vimeo.

yellow

2008-10-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

doga

2008-10-11T05:44:00.000-07:00

After a year and a half the new dog park's grand opening is tomorrow. I bet it's gonnna rain.

Lucy Blue got a new necklace

2008-10-05T22:48:00.000-07:00

My little friend

2008-09-29T15:02:00.000-07:00

Warp Cat

2008-09-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

I miss dog energy in my space. I've been looking at all the dogs that have crossed my path in this life time. Still miss my Girlfriend dog. I go visit Pete the stray and his sidekick Big Lu. They still love me. but its just not the same.

Life is good though, the most beautiful baby in the world is about to make her grand entrance soon. Although I am not a main player in that adventure, I get to watch from a great box seat. The X_bf (granpa) and I seem to have a good working relationship. As long as I don't have to SEE him to much.

And I have a current bo that is beyond anything I could have dreamed up. His job keeps him way to many hours and I'm still emotionally sketchy so it works out. No matter what, the interaction with this "silly boy" is what got me through one of the more funky times in my life. I say bravo to that.

so life, as usual, waxes and wanes. Dog's or no dogs. and Lucy Blu is her own little independent planet. She doesn't even need a sun to revolve. She spins out at warp cat. So I think I'm gonna make a tomato pie as found on Judy Bluesky's blog.

Some times I feel like a motherless child

2008-09-25T01:41:00.000-07:00

I'm really tired tonight. Just tired. I could make a list I could tell u all about it but I'm just to tired. like drib tired. So many things happened today - bland - joyless - my life flowing down the side streets hitting the storm drain lost forever. salton sea - wet. not being replaced fast enough. someday just the bottom left - cracked - won't be back. but tomorrow's coming in on the early train, i'm always amazed when it shows up on time with the flag of promise snapping in the breeze like a mad terrier.

inspiration drizzles down

2008-09-24T10:43:00.000-07:00

hee haa

2008-09-23T15:16:00.000-07:00

spiderman

2008-09-20T14:57:00.000-07:00

My tatoo

2008-09-18T04:34:00.000-07:00

Show Us Your Ink!
Brickfish

the tour guide wishing us a fond fairwell

2008-09-17T00:57:00.000-07:00

Faye Canyon

2008-09-17T00:19:00.000-07:00

I hiked high so I could see the wealthy veiw. poetry was read in the canyon to the melodious meandering of a native american flute. a bobcat had walked the trail below not so long ago. maybe he was still in the neighborhood.

No to Palin

2008-09-13T22:49:00.000-07:00

Friends, compatriots, fellow lamenters,

We are writing to you because of the fury and dread we have felt since the announcement of Sarah Palin as the Vice-Presidential candidate for the Republican Party.
We believe that this terrible decision has surpassed mere partisanship, and that it is a dangerous farce on the part of a pandering and rudderless Presidential candidate that has a real possibility of becoming fact.
Perhaps like us, as American women, you share the fear of what Ms. Palin and her professed beliefs and proven record could lead to for ourselves and for our present or future daughters.
To date, she is against sex education, birth control, the pro-choice platform, environmental protection, alternative energy development, freedom of speech (as Mayor she wanted to ban books and attempted to fire the librarian who stood against her), gun control, the separation of church and state, and polar bears.
She has no real preparation to become the second-most-powerful person on the planet.

We want to clarify that we are not against Sarah Palin as a woman, a mother, or, for that matter, a parent of a pregnant teenager, but solely as a rash, incompetent, and all together devastating choice for Vice President. Ms. Palin's political views are in every way a slap in the face to the accomplishments that our mothers and grandmothers and great-grandmothers so fiercely fought for, and that we've so demonstrably benefited from.

First and foremost, Ms. Palin does not represent us. She does not demonstrate or uphold our interests as American women. It is presumed that the inclusion of a woman on the Republican ticket could win over women voters. We want to disagree, publicly.

Therefore, we invite you to reply here with a short, succinct message about why you, as a woman living in this country, do not support this candidate as second-in-command for our nation.

Please include your name (last initial is fine), age, and place of residence.

We will post your responses on a blog called 'Women Against Sarah Palin,' which we intend to publicize as widely as possible. Please send us your reply at your earliest convenience*the greater the volume of responses we receive, the stronger our message will be.

Thank you for your time and action.

VIVA!

Sincerely,

Quinn Latimer and Lyra Kilston
New York, NY

mailto:womensaynopalin@gmail.com

**PLEASE FORWARD WIDELY! If you send this to 20 women in the next hour, you could be blessed with a country that takes your concerns seriously. Stranger things have happened.

911

2008-09-11T14:43:00.000-07:00

American Life in Poetry: Column 181

Stuart Kestenbaum, the author of this week's poem, lost his brother Howard in the destruction of the twin towers of the World Trade Center. We thought it appropriate to commemorate the events of September 11, 2001, by sharing this poem. The poet is the director of the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts on Deer Isle, Maine.

Prayer for the Dead

The light snow started late last night and continued
all night long while I slept and could hear it occasionally
enter my sleep, where I dreamed my brother
was alive again and possessing the beauty of youth, aware
that he would be leaving again shortly and that is the lesson
of the snow falling and of the seeds of death that are in everything
that is born: we are here for a moment
of a story that is longer than all of us and few of us
remember, the wind is blowing out of someplace
we don't know, and each moment contains rhythms
within rhythms, and if you discover some old piece
of your own writing, or an old photograph,
you may not remember that it was you and even if it was once you,
it's not you now, not this moment that the synapses fire
and your hands move to cover your face in a gesture
of grief and remembrance.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright © 2007 by Stuart Kestenbaum. Reprinted from "Prayers & Run-on Sentences," Deerbook Editions, 2007, by permission of Stuart Kestenbaum. Introduction copyright © 2008 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

new post old picture

2008-09-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

joB WAS alot of this, that, and the other, dressed with owner idiosyncratic behavior tossed over the top like vinegar. hmmmm. I'm working the rest of the week. no POETRY. bummer. next week i work wednesday and saturday. better.

Oak Creek

2008-09-07T12:26:00.000-07:00

sunset crackling
reflecting on the placid
pond of rainbow trout

2008-09-07T12:23:00.000-07:00

September 16th

2008-09-07T00:47:00.000-07:00

in the stars

2008-09-06T11:25:00.000-07:00

A month ago I first time ever entered a poem in a contest. I got my first rejection yesterday. Coolio. It was a rather nice rejection. One of those it just isn't right for our rag but do enter something else soon things. It was free so what the heck. Feedback is priceless. Then at an open mic this week that I read at, I won a $25.00 gift certificate to a sponsoring restaurant. "Who me?" I said.

I appear to have drawn some dissenting feedback on my rather bland blog. It's not really what I'm going for here and usually I try to stray away from those heated tidbits that draw controversy. But some things are just are so glaringly bizarre I just can't help venting my humble opinion. And I am always open to hearing the random takes of others so I guess it was my lucky day.

I also got a neat little side job taking wild west photos at a local restaurant. One of those period dress up deals. It takes a bit of costuming knowledge, some photography skills, and an ability to do touch up stuff with photoshop. And it's part time. Now how cool is that. And I get to dress up cowgirl style. Wonder if they will let me ware my 6 shooter?

And the whipped cream on the coco was; few weeks ago I snapped some shots at a poetry reading and sent them out to the poet, just a freebie on my part. I just like to take pictures and the lens I was using (100mm fixed focus) produces such rewarding photos. The poet in turn gave me a chrysanthemum clay bowl he made. Such a kind thought.

What do you think? Bonaroo week or what!

my thoughts on sarah palen

2008-08-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

.....I think hockey mom is great. it's all the rest of that crap she packs around with her in lieu of the experience she really needs that scares me. gun rights are good, Ok to kill each other or that moose in the back yard. I would really want to be armed if some sociopath decides to victimize me. Fat chance with my big mouth. And rape victims can bring children into the world with half the genetic makeup of the deviant that violated them. And she (our rape victim)will never forget that crime of violence every time she looks into her child's eyes. Right on.

e-mail from a friend

2008-08-31T18:31:00.000-07:00

These incredible photos of a White Bengal Tiger named Odin. Odin is six years old and 10 feet long from tail to nose. Odin lives at a Zoo in Vallejo, California, near San Francisco. Odin was hand-raised at the zoo. And after he was weaned, his British trainer Lee Munro discovered his remarkable skill. When a lump of meat was thrown into a pool of water, Odin would happily dive in after it. 'He makes a funny face - and it's actually to close his nostrils to stop the water from going into his nose.' Not all big cats enjoy the water but for Tigers from the hot climate of South-East Asia it's one way to cool down. 'Plus they hunt in and around water. They're an ambush predator so they wait for prey to come down to the water.' When you actually see him dive underwater he looks so graceful,' 'Odin loves the water and he loves food,' he said. 'Not all big cats will dive and swim underwater even for meat treats. 'Munro said tigers were the most powerful swimmers out of all land-dwelling animals. Tragically, within our lifetimes, zoos might be the only places left to see these magnificent animals. A century ago there were about 100,000 tigers in the wild. Now there are just 2,500 adults, with the Bengal variety almost extinct. None has been seen in the wild since the last white tiger was shot and killed in 1958. White tigers are the most rare. They get their white color from an unusual and extremely rare genetic combination.

monsoon

2008-08-30T12:04:00.000-07:00

and yet another Canyon de Chelly

2008-08-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

the darker petroglyph's are Anasazi and the lighter ones Navajo. the hogan is also Navajo. I just love the cow. Unfortunatly, this picture doesn't really show the Anasazi 'glyph's very well. This is near White House ruins.

something to ponder

2008-08-23T19:24:00.000-07:00

"People are dangerous. If they're able to involve themselves in issues that matter, they may change the distribution of power, to the detriment of those who are rich and privileged."--Noam Chomsky

More Canyon de Chelly

2008-08-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Juniper berries

conquistadors

2008-08-20T16:16:00.000-07:00

There they go

you hear them

cruising down the alley

those shady young men

in their custom cars

boom boom boom

box

bigger than the back seat

baggy low rider pants

pockets full of felonies

waiten’ for a chance

lucky branded, tattooed

black sunglasses

you can almost smell

the south side summer

like a fire burning in their soul

a soul that got kicked to the curb

long before their birth

blue teardrops dripping down

stiletto sharp cheeks

watering

a heart of skin deep ink

on their iron chiseled chest

indelible Guadalupe no protection

for these midnight conquistadors

of unleashed passion

Don’t you see them?

aren’t they beautiful?

like jaguars

phantoms of the night

the stick people are at it again

2008-08-19T23:10:00.000-07:00

poetry salon in Sedona, Arizona

2008-08-18T22:32:00.000-07:00

reading reading read
work, listening, writing, comments
=
grand finale show

at Cafe Zelo Cosi

Clock wise: (sort of)

Carl Weis
Burt Cisneros
Sondraya
Gary Every
Shotsie Gorman

...and there were many more poets but my camera skills were lacking that evening. I was trying hard to listen to the show, watch the crowd, and prepare for my reading. Would words really drop out of my mouth, would those words even resemble what was written on the paper? Would the alliteration snarl up in a ball and get stuck? Would those metaphors confound and shrink into just a pile of stupid words? Would the audience find my visions too shocking? And in the end only a tiny little voice spit those edgy parables out. Where in the world has that tiny little voice been all my big mouth life?

My friends "The Kids"

2008-08-17T20:31:00.000-07:00

aren't they beautiful?

I found my cat

2008-08-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

She's been on the lamb since July 5th. Found her this morning in the dry wash by my house were the coyotes live. She was happy to see me as the Monsoon has been hitting us hard the last few days.

horse ears

2008-08-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

The horse and I

2008-08-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

The first thing we did when we got to Canyon de Chelly was to walk down 1 & 1/2 miles to the canyon bottom. And, of course back up. The next day we did a half day jeep tour with a Navajo guide. I was most informative and quite beautiful. Our guide had lived in the canyon all his life (probably 60 + years) and had been guiding the last 29 years. The one thing my friend Gary noticed was lack of chirping birds. At alot of the stops people would come out of their hogans with jewelry for sale. Well you know me. I also bought a sand carving. Most of the sandstone pieces were done in acrylic. They were of the petroglyph's mostly.

On our last day we decided to do a 2 hour horse ride. We had been over to the stables the night before and checked out the prices - reasonable. OMG what a treat. Our Navajo guide was female for one thing so she had a bit of a different slant on things, such as the importance of matrilineal clan for identity, marriage and sex prohibitions, hospitality, and cooperation. And the best thing, we could hear the sweet songs of the local birds without the roar of the truck engine. Next time I think the 8 hour horse ride is in order.

P.S. these 2 photos were taken by Gary Every.

best western

2008-08-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

ruins

2008-08-15T22:12:00.000-07:00

Me...

2008-08-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

...just having too much fun

coffee at the canyon

2008-08-13T23:17:00.000-07:00

www.changingwomancafe.com

spider rock

2008-08-13T23:11:00.000-07:00

She chose the top of Spider Rock for her home. It was Spider Woman who taught Dine (Navajo) ancestors of long ago the art of weaving upon a loom. She told them, "My husband, Spider Man, constructed the weaving loom making the cross poles of sky and earth cords to support the structure; the warp sticks of sun rays, lengthwise to cross the woof; the healds of rock crystal and sheet lightning, to maintain original condition of fibres. For the batten, he chose a sun halo to seal joints, and for the comb he chose a white shell to clean strands in a combing manner." Through many generations, the Dine (Navajo) have always been accomplished weavers.

road trip

2008-08-10T11:33:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Canyon de Chelly Monday. I'm so excited I can't sit still. Not that that is any thing new, but my life has really taken a swing back into the uncharted waters of spontaneity. Single and spontaneousness. I'm going with a friend who is as into this as I am. I believe there lies the key.

cat movie

2008-08-05T18:34:00.000-07:00

2008-08-03T11:47:00.000-07:00

and sometimes the picture has so many stories, one might get as lost as Alice in the rabbit hole.

2008-08-02T12:32:00.000-07:00

some pictures just
don't have a story

some days your the cat and some days your the....

2008-07-29T10:51:00.000-07:00

coyote.

peering into 56

2008-07-27T23:27:00.000-07:00

more magic

2008-07-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

magical mystery tour

2008-07-24T02:13:00.000-07:00

silent grey sliver

squawking metamorphosis

heron moving on

shit sandwiches

2008-07-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight, as I chatted with my friends about our grievous situations(glad to know I'm not the only one)I could feel the release of all the tension that has been inundating my life for awhile now. Nothing real profound, more like a gentle cool breeze on a warm day. Or maybe a warm breeze on a cool day. What ever. And I remembered when I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed the blogs would give me that feeling. I could almost get sappy here if I haven't already. But I think where I am going with this is pretty simple socialization can make those shit sandwiches go down just a little easier. And then living in a place that looks like this helps.

chatting with charles

2008-07-21T12:37:00.000-07:00

I've been so obsessed with my wicked life I have been neglecting my e-mail buddies. so here dear Charles is your most revealing e-mail,weeks late, and me with out my mink coat.

Is writing trying to kill me?

my life before I’m a famous novelist

by Charles P. Ries

Writing ... why do I need you? A hobby for sadomasochists. I got another four rejections yesterday; that makes 150 (on my first book)—so far. Maybe 150 literary agents know something I don’t? Is it time for a new hobby? One I can play without agents? Maybe I should start spending more quality time with my girlfriend?

But then there are those days when the sun shines and I dig out from my blanket of rejection ... when I feel the inner steel of patient, relentless persistence ... when I jump out of bed and say, “My work doesn’t suck. I just need to find one agent who loves me.” And on those mornings I prance to my computer with hope in my heart and I query onward! I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, some agent is going to love me! So today I sped past my 190th query with confidence in my new and improved manuscript that I’ve been working on (in its many forms) for eight years. Truly, writing is not a destination, it is a journey.

Dear Diary, I’m giving up writing and joining the circus. Yes, I will leave it all: the paper and pens, the publishers and agents who can’t love my inner fantasy, and I’ll join the circus. The make-up, big nose and fancy pants will help me overcome my feelings of obscurity. I will create an identity grander then my literary art. I will have something worth writing about. I will marry the fat lady, she’ll give birth to a midget, I’ll learn to swallow swords, make friends with a contortionist, turn my pens into pretzels, and finally live like a real man.

I have become a student of the query letter and kick-ass synopsis. (Eight years of practice makes us good at something.) Anyone who thinks this business is about just good writing needs a group intervention. “Charles, we all love you, but we are here to tell you, you have a problem. You have lost sight of reality. You will never be published! We’re taking your pens away. Please put your pen down slowly. You need to get a life!”

Life! Schmife! I have something better then a life, I have a novel! It has everything: love, mysticism, folly, resurrection, laughs, and the guy gets the girl. It’s a moneymaker; I just know it.

Dear Diary, I have been re-evaluating my existence. It seems I have been created to work, go to the gym, drink Starbucks non-fat, no-whip, extra-hot mochas and obsess about my writing. I’m a do-aholic; flawed for sure. People born under the sign of the twin fish are pathetic, restless dreamers. I’m having doubts about the quality of my writing. I got four rejections yesterday. One day God will run out of rejections, and bingo—I’m in. I just have to hold out. But to make things worse, recently I’ve been haunted by visions of a muse wearing a black, full length mink coat. Mink really gets me going. She’s been following me everywhere—even when I scrub the kitchen floor, feed the birds, vacuum the house, and feel pathetic about my writing. There she is, in mink. Scary how she haunts me, loves me. Me, unlovable, useless, pathetic me. Yes, poor pitiful me.

Yes, pain and rejection are often the food of rambling prose poems that we called our “journal” in high school. But then we all rose above high school angst and heartache and turned it into art. We became writers. We left the comfort of secretive journals for the adventure of rejection. Yes, rejection. It’s not quite cancer. But the other day I got a letter from a publisher telling me the manuscript I’d sent her wasn’t avant-garde enough for her. Why didn’t she just send me a letter bomb instead!

Dear Diary: I’m not avant-garde. I knew it! Maybe I’m a closet Republican. I guess it doesn’t matter that I wear blue jeans, black t-shirts, write poetry, and have a goatee. Elaine suggested I start to view myself as “Nonvant–garde” and build a movement around nonvant-garde poetry. I love Elaine, eternal keeper of my diminishing confidence.

We make chicken soup out of chicken shit until the gravy train arrives. I recently wondered aloud to a friend, “Am I the guy who is thinks he is creating art, but who (after waking from a dream) realizes he has been banging his head with a lead pipe?” The Aztec high priests gleefully ripped beating heart after beating heart from the chests of their faith-filled followers after convincing them (talk about true believers) that this life was just a dream (easy for a high priest to say). So is my hope of writing fame only a dream? Is my persistence just an addiction to an impossible goal?

My girlfriend, Elaine accommodates my periodic writing crisis like Mother Theresa. She hugs me and says, “Look Charles you could have worse obsessions than sitting around endlessly writing funny, weird stuff. You could watch the ESPN Sports Classics channel and drinks beer all day. Who cares if you ever get published?” She’s right of course – she’s always right; but the other day when I got e-mails from two agents (TWO!) who wanted to see the full manuscript of my novel. I danced with eternal hope. I pranced anew to my computer ready to continue creative battle. It only takes one person to believe - just one person to open the door for a manuscript to be sold. How could I ever have thought of giving up writing to join a circus? But... maybe an Aztec High Priest! I could get it going with ceremonial dress of feathers, gold and turquoise. Sharpen my sacrificial knife and invite a few agents over for dinner.

____________________________________________________

Charles P. Ries lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His narrative poems, short stories, interviews and poetry reviews have appeared in over two hundred print and electronic publications. He has received four Pushcart Prize nominations for his writing. He is the author of THE FATHERS WE FIND, a novel based on memory and five books of poetry — the most recent entitled, The Last Time which was released by The Moon Press & Publishing. He is the poetry editor for Word Riot (www.wordriot.org). He is on the board of the Woodland Pattern Bookstore (www.woodlandpattern.org) and a member of the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission. But most of all he is a founding member of the Lake Shore Surf Club, the oldest fresh water surfing club on the Great Lakes (http://www.visitsheboygan.com/dairyland/). You may find additional samples of his work by going to: http://www.literati.net/Ries/

well shit

2008-07-20T19:01:00.000-07:00

The cat hasn't returned, my back is so bad most of the time I just stay in bed, I'm trying to put together a budget that includes rent, cell phone,and internet. Actually that works but the food has to go. Food stamps think I have enough money to eat, said get rid of the cell phone but to be on the transplant list I have to have one. And the internet is the most fun I could ever have for $31.00 a month. One good thing, my car is paid off.. wahoo.. sure looks pretty in that same parking spot its been for weeks with no gas to go anywhere. But I can walk, always a delight when L1 and L2 have severe arthritis. Goes well with the not eating thing too. Mostly I miss my cat but being she gets it about being a ferrel and she can count her lucky stars she won't have to worry about having kittens to care for, it really is just my selfish desire that gets in the way. I know how to be a ferrel too, and again it's just my selfish desire getting in the way of pitching a tent. I'm not really sure where I got the idea I need to have all that crap in my life that costs so much to house. Hmm my brain is starting to rock and roll again. Gotta keep that hope card in view. Just sure do wish I my laptop had more than 2/3 of a screen. Hauling around a 40 lb monitor just really zaps the portability factor. Well until next time, as Dale Evens would say,

Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
Happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then.
Who cares about the clouds when we're together?
Just sing a song and bring the sunny weather.
Happy trails to you, 'till we meet again.

Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you.

Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
Happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then.
Who cares about the clouds when we're together?
Just sing a song and bring the sunny weather.

Happy trails to you, 'till we meet again.

just so much

2008-07-19T02:12:00.000-07:00

I moved into an male gay friends house last week. I'll spare you all the asinine shit that makes up the jist but it did end up in cops and a back ache.

Then I moved Lucy over to my new house and all seemed to be going well until she disappeared on evening when I wasn't home. We think she fell out the window with the bent screen. I have been so blue and grief stricken.

I had a cat disappear for 10 days once and made it home. theres always a ray of hope.

I've been making necklaces. I think they are quite charming but that doesn't constitute a sale.

today would have been hunter s. Thompson's b'day hand he not blown his brains out last year.I thought I'd throw this in, pulled of Garrison Keillor show:

In 1971, he published his most famous book, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, about a trip he took to that that city, how it almost drove him crazy, and his realization that idealism of the 1960s had disappeared for good.

He said, "I haven't found a drug yet that can get you anywhere near as high as a sitting at a desk writing, trying to imagine a story no matter how bizarre it is, [or] going out and getting into the weirdness of reality and doing a little time on the Proud Highway."

That's my man. * >())))))

*>)((((((

I never was much at ASCII art

2008-07-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

Well the shift has started. I'm moving in with one of my good friends from where I used to work. After Lucy Blue gets her stitches out not to mention the cone. He has 2 cats ya got to know there will be some cat snits goin' down in the beginning. They are both boys so it should work it self out toots sweet. They don't get much more cute then little ole' Lucy Blue. At least thats what I'm hoping. I am gonna have to leave Pete but he's happy here. As soon as I can though, I WILL find a place for my whole furry family. Funny how he knows somethings up. Hangen' close. It's so sad but I just can't stay here any longer. Done is done. Packing is really overwhelming me. Maybe I should have a bond fire.

here's a funny little fellow I happened on during a back country walk

Packen up my cares and woes

2008-06-27T22:06:00.000-07:00

Bye Bye blackbird. as much as I hate packing and with such few viable resources ya'd think I'd be blue. Nope, some one else will have to sing that song.

let Neco say it

My little cone head

2008-06-26T23:24:00.000-07:00

some big narly tom cat bit her on the butt. I got him good with the garden hose with the high powered swirty nossle. But not before he inflicted the bite from hell. Poor little Lucy Blue.

book making

2008-06-26T22:59:00.000-07:00

This is my book making class. the last book cue was what plans did we have for the summer. So my plan was well why not go big time, I would save the world. I incorporated oil price rhetoric, eating food grown close to home, global warming, a little laminated pull out superman. Every one looked a bit spooked. So this book, well the cue was "HOT". I decided to be a little less nebulous and stay on the straight and narrow of hot, hence chilies.

in love with love

2008-06-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

she wore diamond crusted stilettos

as she walked on the edge

of her mercurial nature

rings in her navel

to keep from busting apart

with a raven on her shoulder

to preen her golden hair

the tarot cards told of the future

and the future was amazing as

she took the king of twilight for a lover

in the light of waxing gibbous moon

between her breasts her heart was leaping

he reached out to reign it in.

the angels sang a glorious song

and the harpies dropped to their knees

what a fine young dream

for the woman as old as romance

I may half to rob a bank or something

2008-06-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

Wasn't me that barfed on the floor. Go yell at your dog.

rogue hollyhock

2008-06-12T23:11:00.000-07:00

walk in the woods

2008-06-12T00:59:00.000-07:00

nite of the hippie moon

2008-06-09T00:55:00.000-07:00

mmmmm what a delightful night.

My mind is like a siv

2008-06-06T00:36:00.000-07:00

You know, one of those things we all drain our spaghetti with. Just thought I'd throw that in. Can't remember what I was going to write tonight.

I'm house sitting so I can't upload my pictures to the house's computer. Now that mine is tried down to a 40 lb. CRT monitor, mobility isn't an option.

I did find a shop to put all my chakra balancing necklaces in. It's a book store so I can see how that might be an up hill battle to take any $ home. I'm also taking a bookmaking class. Like, not those kind of books. Bound books. Cool, I say. another crafty fun thing to do. But wheres the money in it I ask. Ideas abound. But marketing might be a bit more tricky.

I have to say that I am certainly feeling better now being 2 and 1/2 months off of interferon. The BF has only thrown me out once this month. I mean last month. I guess if I stretch my imagination a bit (not to hard for me)I could call that a plus in my life. Maybe a mini plus. but I'll take 'em any way I can get 'em.

Pussy poem

2008-06-02T23:22:00.000-07:00

Cats whiskers must have been ringing

the feline flash flew off the kitchen table

out the flap, flap, flap, cat door

dove patrol no doubt, her duty to catdom

sleuthing out those feather dusters.

Her head cocked left

blue shards watching

only the metronome in her tail

alive

before the moment of decisive action

erupting in a Vesuvius of downy delight.

No where to go but up

2008-05-28T02:04:00.000-07:00

A friend gave me an old (not to old) CRT monitor. works great. I can lift it, that was the main criteria. Need a different cable to hook up my HDTV to the affair. And I need to pluck it off the wall where it hangs about six inches from the ceiling.

And wouldn't ya know, now the laptop monitor is working again. If you squeeze it about two inches in from the left and two inches up from the bottom it works but, can you imagine how much fun it is to type with one hand on the keyboard and the other FIRMLY attached to the screen. HMM I think it needs a bit of glue inside. or alot of glue. I'll call Dell with all my wisdom and see what they will charge me.

I can hear them laughing now, in England English with Indian from India overtones. And me with brain fog, unable to spit out three quarters of the words needed to explain the almost indescribable situation.

But I still like the big screen idea the best. Not very portable. glad it didn't sell in the liquidation of my shit that has been occurring lately.

My latest necklace. Silver buffalo and beads, denim lapis beads, and glass beads. sweet.