Winter

Winter! Winter! Winter!!!
Jack Frost was always my favorite incarnation.

Horror, Hope, Hugs, and Hedonism

Four things that have taken up my time lately:
1. Enjoying several Horror and Action movies.
a. 30 Days of Night - Why do the vampires waste so much blood? Didn't really see the twist ending coming.
b. Resident Evil: Extinction - Eh, it was all right.
c. Crazy Eights, part of Horrorfest 2007. - Just didn't have enough meat to the story or to the "evil thing" to get the job done.
2. Thinking about the results of my mother's biopsy.
3. New anime series (several) and...
4. Battlestar Galactica, starting from the beginning. Normally I can take or leave Sci-Fi shows, especially those set in space, but the acting of the entire cast pretty much rocks.
That's about it.

Make It Cool

Way to make my week!
This rules.
Always suspected it...I had speculated that the relationship was more than what it seemed to involve, but I had hoped it would be revealed in the book, and thus force the movie producers' hands. I do think it still rocks that she had the guts and the intelligence to reveal it so casually.

Timely Soundtrack: "Use Me" by Bill Withers.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "O Earth! Thy summer song of joy may soar
Ringing to heaven in triumph. I but crave
The sad, caressing murmur of the wave
That breaks in tender music on the shore." - From "Land-Locked" by Celia Thaxter.
What I Learned Today: How to make cream cheese blintzes.

Harvest Time

Autumn should be a time of rich colors, rich friendships, rich food. I still do not like fall, but if I concentrate on the things I like...

MacIntosh Apples
Colder Weather
All Hallow's Eve
Pilgrim Pie
Catching Leaves
Waiting for the First Snow

...I will make it to winter.



Timely Soundtrack: "Mrs. McGrath", the sea chantey.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" from Winken, Blinken, and Nod.
What I Learned Today: The history of "The Streets of Derry."

Knot

She is a tightly coiled spring
she once was a loosely gathered mass
hair like errant strings
slipping out from her yarn ball hair

threads unraveling inside her
the magic of a zombie, losing
arms and ears and legs and soul
while remaining a whole thing

you would pull on her loose ends
suck on them thoughtlessly
tug her in all directions
slip out a memory to entwine your fingers

With unhappily smooth fingers, you
dig your hands in deep
kneading out arthritic thoughts
you cause more knots than love

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poemita en progreso.
~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Apology Proposed

We must all apologize to Hummingbird Goes Bucknutty. We missed its fourth birthday. Alas.

So I have not written in a while. I lost my phone, internet, and cable for a week due to a failed port outside. Personal life has been in turmoil, bad luck has plagued me - probably karma, I admit. I dropped my external hard drive, killing it and losing all the information on it - all of my photos and music. I locked myself out of my apartment on the day of my parents' enormous party and was locked out overnight.
I have also gotten back into writing the book I have been working on, finally. And, finally, I worked almost nonstop for a week on the jeans for LizArd's mother's 60th birthday.
Right, so...pretty busy.
Love to all...well, most.

Timely Soundtrack: "Honest James" from Thurston Moore.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Your kind causes unrest". - Bruno to Larry in The War With Mr. Wizzle by Gordon Korman.
What I Learned Today: Someone is from Kenya - no, someone specific.

Certain Things

Certain people
you would do anything for
no, not anything
not stupid, simple things
but hard, aching things
- don't drink so I can is easy -
- cry on your shoulder
about someone else
is a hard one -

- sympathize with me
why I am not loved
by the one I want to be -
is far too difficult
to stand still for
that's why I twitch and shiver so
why I no longer look anyone
in their blind eyes

And I know that this is certain
we are three, occasionally four,
of a kind, entwined still
just because we are so different
yet commiserate so well
I am the glue, you are the pages
ones everyone sees
admires, pores over.

But I have no room
on my tongue for acrid tastes
no chemistry left to be bitter
I am made with sweet paste
An old rhyme says we girls are
sugar-laden and good,
we wait in our candy trays
for hungry men to unwrap us

But certain things
for a certain you
in that certain way you have
of asking me to
I find myself
-hypnotized or willing-
to rise above self-pity-pride
to be able to do

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

San Francisco on New Year's Day

Sky caged with iron-smoothed clouds
seals roosting on thrones of debris
riotously ridiculous and honking victory
the wounded - a lemon-headed pelican
limps from post to post
casualties of twisted trees and
leaves shredded by beak and claw
shiver on mossy waves
the sea holds her dead dear
in white-tipped arms
colder than dignity lost
in a scuffle over a bit of fish

~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

Plants = Home

When you let plants set down roots in or around your home, you know you've set down yours!
Everything is going along swimmingly...sort of. I need to buy some ant killer and hope the maintenance guy calls soon to set up an appointment to plaster the holes in my walls, but I am otherwise happy.

And so are my plants...so far.

Timely Soundtrack: Stuff.
Quote Trapped in My Head: Other Stuff.
What I Learned Today: How to take care of my new Dichondra argentea.

Face, Meet Horizon

Horizon, meet face.
The past week has gone thusly:
1. Thursday afternoon: Received a phone call that my best friend's father had passed away. Then my phone has no service and I am stuck in line at IKEA wondering why the hell chairs matter anymore. I don't need to sit, I need to help. I was able to see my friend that night, in between packing a U-Haul I would only have in my possession for 18 hours or so from Thursday night to Friday morning.
2. Thursday night: Head to NYC with my friend to get her father's car.
3. Friday morning: Take off work to move into apartment with help from my lovely family, siblings, and Roman, waiting for my mattress to arrive. When the salesman calls to tell me he has forgotten to schedule delivery, and that my option are to A. wait until the next Friday (when I will be away) or B. pick it up myself (but not to worry, the store would waive the $50 delivery fee!). Emblem must have scared him when she pretended to be me, for when I called him back, he had hired a private delivery firm and the mattress was set to come.
4. Friday afternoon: The mattress comes. Unfortunately, we have managed to break an ancient chair that my dad had as a kid growing up in Manhattan in the '50s. Good thing he no longer had any attachment to it.
5. Saturday morning: While looking through my things, I realize that a letter has come from the bank telling me my last paycheck was rejected because it was mangled by a machine. Panic. My landlord has just deposited the monstrous check I gave him for my security deposit and half month's rent, and I really hope I have enough to cover it in my bank account, considering it's, oh, I don't know, a HOLIDAY WEEKEND and any deposits I make will be available Tuesday. And my bank never bothered to notify me of this (via e-mail or anything) when it happened a week ago, even though the check was deposited the 16th.
6. Saturday night: Intended to visit with friend, but she got tied up with fam...then a really long involved miscommunication with family ended with me going to the apt. to work on the bathroom at 1:30 in the morning and getting stuck in the garage when I got back.
7. Sunday morning: Late to choir practice because the real estate agents (we think it was them, anyway) turned off the switch that controls the garage doors and I didn't realize it.
8. Sunday night: Had a major sugar low and nearly passed out. Had to force-feed myself orange juice and yoghurt, then had a migraine and could barely swallow pills. Spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in the heat (fan was at the apartment, and my screens are still not on).
9. Monday: Tried to put drawer liner in kitchen drawers, realize that my cabinets and drawers are 10" deep and 9 1/2" wide respectively, and I have 12" wide paper. Result: shreds of drawer liner used to line the cabinet under the sink.
10. Monday night: More visiting with my friend. The wake is tonight and the funeral tomorrow morning. I had planned to take off Thursday to go to G.Ad. and Friday to go to CT to help the 'rents move more things. I knew I should have just taken off this whole week. I will only work one full day this week as it is now.

Even with all that's happened, I'm still kind of floating, as I have been for the last month or so, through life.

And still, I know, my friend is having a worse week.

Timely Soundtrack: "Half Light" by Athlete off of Tourist.
Quote Trapped in My Head: " The sun got stuck, as it's making it's way back down, // We find ourselves, in a familiar part of town...So when I see you next, we'll make the most of it // Tell the sun to start moving again".
What I Learned Today: Moving is good and bad for your nourishment.

Wait! What's That on the Horizon?

Apartment ho! We have touchdown. Lease = signed. Keys = mine. Parking spot = assigned. Mine, all mine (for a year at least). I will start moving things in tomorrow, and start looking for a mattress.

What I am most excited about: arranging everything, picking up decorations at Ikea, the kitchen, dancing around my new apartment for the first time.

Timely Soundtrack: "You Know I'm No Good" by Amy Winehouse.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "I only cause irreparable damage // because you let it be so // the wall chooses to fall // the back decides to break"
What I Learned Today:

Thigmonasty

The bees are getting wiser
jealous guardians of beauty
cut the tail off a whale
put a harpoon there instead
and you have a bumblebee
does the analogy fit?
whale is to size of ocean as
bee is to flyable air?
You, skulking below, what
can you see from down there?

Snapdragon in a panic
defending your bit of earth
lashing out, biting,
swallowing all the sanity you can
But you have no baleen
you can't sift out the madness
the fool's daydreams
you, Drosera, trap it all
the bees with the flies
the rot with the honey

And everyone says:
you can't live like this
nightmaring your way
from dawn to dawn
a detached hydra
mouth free to scream
as you drift in the current
So you get Hard and Strong
swagger back to them to
demand their approval

Now there is that of the
Stalking-Cat in you
and the Bird of Prey
efficient to an E
cold when on a hunt
that of the proud Wolf
even shunned as the omega
you would still reach
attack the healthiest specimen
the hardest prey

Bees patrol the andromedas
the purple azaleas, the
demilitarized zone between
safe-houses of flowers
does it hurt, Snapdragon,
to bare your teeth at them
with no bite to your snarl?
Venus, does the harpoon
prick and sting
as you swallow them down?

But now they say:
you can't live like this
monstering your way
from dusk to dusk
but Hard, Strong you
cannot hear, your stems stretch
too high from the ground,
the walls of your petals
have grown too thick.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Spring Sprung...For Two Days

With all regards to Spring:



Sunning and enjoying the day on the old deck.



Smirking as always.

Timely Soundtrack: "Contacto" by Cabas off of Contacto.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Oh, I know him! I have his book out in the bookcase!" Spoken by someone answering a Trivial Pursuit Question.
What I Learned Today: Several awesome stories from a wonderful group of people who have lived and worked in the arts community in New York for sixty + years.

Pretty and...

She likes her boys
pretty and stupid
I collect cracked men
shatter them at will
to work in mosaics
they are desolate, I am dissolute
all together we are debauchery
in its finest hour

Aren't you just
the cleverest thing, trying so hard
to flash your eyes
innocence notwithstanding
unable to withstand the game
A woman can always-
everyone has a tell, a price
bet the substance of soul
the blush of your face
the way you look away

The fey lady's chariot comes, but still
Mab's just a charmer who
never quite follows through
until the climactic finale
Oh, the lies she tells, boy
to get you on your back

And aren't we a pair of aces?
you must be hearts
and I must be diamonds
unless we're being ironic again
you're cotton candy
and its cavities
I'm a polarizer, mesmerizer
circus freak sympathizer

Call a spade for what it is
a dish served up stone cold
between revenge and dessert
Atalanta un-tricked

a blackened, twisted heart
hanging by two metal threads
love turned upside down
to propagate hate

Call a spade the shovel
the tool to dig deep
dissect, damage, despoil
as only the Morrígan could.

If they had but known each other
holding hands so small
what a winning team of
women you can never scorn
One to put you to sleep
let a nightmare swish her tail in your mind
erasing all 'hope' and 'love'
Three-in-One to keep you down
embattled, tangled with fear
ravens circling your head

You like your mind
pretty and stupid
Mab collects cracked dreams
and Morrígan shatters them at will
to feed on mosaic-souls
of the desolate and dissolute
all together it is destruction
in its finest hour

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~
What? April is National Poetry Month!

Hebdomad

The entire world
wants me to think I'm insane
tries to tell me
today is Thursday

That can't be true, I know it
down in the slinky marrow
of my ancestor's bones
in the way the day hangs

loose-fitting like a cloak
like a Friday cape
across my shoulders
tickling my ankles

Also, I know that today
must be Friday, because I love you
and I only love you on Fridays
Thursdays I love music

or art, or sometimes food
Mondays that dog with the curly hair
or the memory of games
played with my sister at age seven

So you see, it can't be Thursday
for I love you, I am sure I do;
I know it in the marrow
coiled asp-like in my bones

Such a deviation would be
impossible and we all know
impossibilities -and dragons-
are reserved for Sundays

Anyway, days do not care a whit
about foolish probabilities
they know that they exist
sense that it is their turn to be today

Hard to slice, cleave, septisect
a circle equally, hard to
break the hebdomad, harder still
if you take more than your share

Leaving none for dance, for cats
cartoon shows and drawing
for zoos and museums
traveling and my black ruffled skirt

And I love you today.
Under a weakening sunset, with
the week-end moon up between clouds
hide-and-seeking its way

into freedom from the urban yoke
So take your one-seventh
and be glad of what you get
Keep Thursday for, to, yourself

...the newspapers too?
The six-o-clock news?
Your three-year-old cousin
Everyone we know?

...Oh dear, this is terrible
the days have switched themselves
And if I give you Thursday too
where will I put cold milk?

Or was it daydreaming or apples
or painting with ink
I've lost my love-schedule
but I love you, so it must

be today, or tomorrow
even yesterday will suffice if
it can be Friday in this bed
in this quiet kingdom of sleep

gently woken by Friday's sun
I have Friday feet on my legs
running to meet you at the door
wrap my Friday fingers in yours

you love me every day (you say)
I suppose I can manage two

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

There, I've written a non-explicit, non-bitter love poem. To...no one.

Mmmm...Leafy!

While the dew was still on the leaves...

The Faded Sheaves

Every time you pet her
she gets a touch more tame
Lady Amalthea breathing,
seething on the window pane
enraged at the honey
creeping into her veins
She was born a feral thing,
beasts quivering under her reign
all the forest her savagery
could barely contain
She wore no halter and
firmly held the reins

Why then this domestication, this
pretty violence made tame?
More damage has been done
by giving her a name
than manacles on limbs
or the cutting of her mane
wind blows fevered heat
sweat slips down the chain
iron holds no relief, no drop
no cleansing storm of rain
of freedom ere the break
before all spirit is slain

slip tilt twist crash
the ocean hurts her deep
flow scream drive blast
the wind cuts her through
too much time spent below
below the thumb of man
She remembers how it felt
to turn the creatures out
raise the ground in welts
then with a terrible shout
bow to the trembling moon
with stardust in your snout

Out of despair, out of shadow
over the spiked gate
A storm arrives, knife in hand,
but it blows late-
mortal now, every tick of heart
makes new marks on her slate
Old age waits with thick fingers
wrapped around her like rings
whispering in her ears
of the end of all things

Late late, always so houred
blame the madness of hares
the egotism of man-children
the braiding of hairs
Lay and wallow in the shame
The birds twitter of men
sing of their attempt to tame
an aspect of our goddess
who rails against the dawn
holds forth against distress
heals the wounded fawn
tramples us to sweetest death

Now what are dreamers to dream
of seeing when they can last see?
What shall our final sight be?
Mab has left, gone are the sidhe
and the Lady is too much woman
and not enough emboldened beast
too little a wild beauty
who brings death to the feast
our savage savior, shameless shiva
converting sinner and priest
lies defeated at civilized feet
wounded, aching for release

Untie the bonds, slip the noose
a whisper, a promise of cyclones
not of love, but of revenge
Clatters, shudders her bones
paling, whisping out the door
out out to freedom
out out to a lack of home
out out out!-side the prison
a world of earth, of loam
fire spitting at the leaves
spittle mixed with ocean foam
a sky with stars thick as thieves

Nettle flowers hold her
keening as she grieves
throws the memory of captivity
of irons, bellows, heaves
from her mind as she has thrown
riders to the faded sheaves
chewing, stomping, cleaving
through wire, bit, and nail
shaking her liberated body
unbraiding her endless tail
waking the animal inside
fates and justice to prevail

with the cold weighing of
once-golden lives and sheaves
for what was once wild
beneath, can never go stale

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~
A rolling ode gathers no topos.<-- Poems Abound!

Animated I: Breaking the Moon

I: Breaking the Moon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It looks nothing like a baby doll.

Thus was Holly Yarrow's first thought after seeing the purple-faced blob that her parents insisted was her new baby sister. Then the oddly-colored thing opened its mouth and wailed.

Its squalling music sounded nothing like the cooing babies always made in storybooks, especially the ones that turned out to be special. The ones that grew up to be magical. Some grew wings or learned spells to make them fly. Others turned out to be long-lost princesses or good fairies that made everything turn out all right by the last page of the book. They were happy all the time, and when they giggled, it sounded like wind chimes.

She could hear her parents trying to calm the baby. Holly peeked around the corner of the hall, a scout carrying out a dangerous mission. Her mother finally noticed her approach, and waggled her fingers in a "come here" gesture, so she crept closer. The bundle continued to throw a magnificent tantrum, fretting without words and twisting its head around on a rotund, neckless body. It lay on its back in a pale green crib, sliding its feet around under the soft yellow blanket.

Cautiously, Holly extended a finger and gave the wrinkled brow a gentle nudge. The skin was as smooth and hairless as that of a mannequin. The baby's head gave an owl-like swivel, her mouth pausing mid-yowl. Her mother, stunned, grasped her father's wrist. Both parents were transfixed by the scene before them. They hardly dared breathe, trying not to disturb this first meeting between siblings.

"What's her name?" All of Holly's friends, family, and toys had names, even the plastic cars and every stuffed koala bear in her extensive collection. So, she reasoned, this new person must have a name as well.

"Maeve." Her mother's voice gusted out the word. "But you can call her Mae. Just like Great-Grandma." Their young infant was keeping strangely silent, staring up at her sister with glassy eyes.

"Ma-" She frowned, concentrated, and tried again. "Mae." She grinned. "May I?"

She broke away from that intent gaze, spinning in off-center loops around the room. Her voice rose in a giggling chant. "May I, may I, may I please? Ma-ma, da-da, may I eat peas? Kick trees? Eat cheese?"

Drew scooped her up and whirled her around, the two dancing to the tune of several more nonsensical questions. Callie leaned over her new treasure, whispering "Those two are a few weaves short of a basket. You and me, baby, we're the only sane ones here."

Mae let out a piercing yelp and stretched her arms out towards the edges of the crib, her small hands pinching the air. Callie sighed, suppressing a grin. "May-be not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their new baby would lie in her crib for hours on end, chattering up at the pale yellow ceiling. She made friends with butterflies, screamed at the first sight of any stinging insect, and tugged at the curls in her dark hair whenever she got tired.

Holly thought of her as an interloper, a poor excuse for a child. Whereas the older girl could run, her baby sister could barely sit up. Mae didn't know the words to the songs on Turtle Time, or how to play hopscotch or even tag. Plus, her yelps sometimes made it difficult for Holly to get to sleep at night. Of course, this last liability could be turned into an excuse to stay up later and play a little longer. Still, Holly found herself dreaming of the day when she could take her little sister out and teach her to find cloud-animals or make a dandelion-seed explosion.

It took a while, but gradually Holly began to recognize Mae as a companion. She was closer in size than the grown-ups were, and could be used as a distraction whenever Holly had done something unscrupulous. Also, Mae never complained when her sibling borrowed her toys or didn't show her the pictures on every page of her storybook. She could even be induced to chase Holly in an impromptu - albeit slow - game of runaway train. Life was good. Well, mostly.

At first, Drew thought it might be the room - drafty, noisy, even haunted. Perhaps the children could hear the neighbor's dog or the birds outside the window by sitting still and listening. He had strained his own hearing, stared at the cheery walls of the nursery, had watched and waited just like his youngest daughter. There was nothing there. While Callie did admit that Mae was a little more introspective than most infants, and prone to fits of gazing at nothing, she laughed off his suggestions that their children were hearing voices or seeing phantoms. Though there were times when they would find her in the oddest positions and places. Once they had found her sitting cross-legged under her crib, hands in her lap like a little old woman. She would be found holding bits of paper no one could recall having dropped or folded in such odd ways. The parents were divided: Drew worried and Callie laughed at their "little adventurer".

Several times, the two had caught Mae having a staring contest with a celestial-themed mobile. A blue moon winked down at her, while a golden sun gave an impossibly wide grin. Both had tiny round mirrors for eyes that played hide-and-seek with the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the nursery windows. Callie was enthralled, but Drew was frightened by the stillness of Mae's tiny face. After a full minute, he broke the spell, swooping in and gathering his youngest child into his arms. He deliberately turned her furrowed face away from the colorful object, tickling her stomach with his lightly callused fingers.

Drew had expected to feel ridiculous every time he thought of the mobile with a shiver of fear, but there was something about the way it hung there. He had thought of replacing the it with other twirling bits of plastic, ones with cutesy giraffes or kindly-looking bears. But he knew Callie loved the old-fashioned thing, and would scoff at the thought that it had caused any of Mae's odd behavior. Sinister as bits of shrapnel, frozen mid-explosion, tolling out its alluring song: clink-chime-chime-clink, clink-jingle-chime-chime...Drew shook himself. Now he was staring at the blasted thing! Here we go, he thought, here comes the embarrassment...that proves this is just a load of rubbish. Mae might have a real problem and I'm blaming the decorations.

Ka-clink-chime-jing-he set his shoulders and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holly stretched under her sleepy bear blanket, woken by the storm of noise in another room. She frowned, concentrating on the voices slipping down the hall from the crack underneath her parents' door.

"...think we should take her to the doctor at least." Her father rumbled, lower in pitch and straining to keep his voice down.
"...ever heard of taking a ten-month-old to a psychiatrist?" That was her mother, tones not quite dulcet but quieter than her husband.
"...do you suggest, then? We sit here and pretend...normal...can't stand it when she just lays there and stares!"
"...some more time. She's just thoughtful and curious...doctor says her hearing's fine, vision good, we've all heard her yelling, so it can't be..."

Holly huffed a lock of black hair out of her eyes and scrunched up her face. She snuck not-too-clumsily down the hall to her baby sister's room and slipped inside. Abstract floral shapes bordered the ceiling and walls, and the room smelt of talc and that indefinable smell of babies - sweet when they are sweet, sour when they are sour.

As always, Mae was happy to see her, gurgling and drooling a smile at her sibling. Holly picked her up so carefully it was almost in slow motion and set her on the floor of her playpen with a few soft blocks. Bringing along a picture book, she climbed inside the pen to play. She could tell her parents what was wrong with her sister: she was a baby. Babies were all nuts. They preferred playing with their food to eating it, crawling to running, staring into space to reading a book. As the two girls began constructing a pastel-colored tower, Holly wondered what had prompted this latest row. A slight breeze ruffled Mae's dark hair in a wave and she giggled as Holly grasped her own hair and made it stand on end. As if in answer, a clink-chime-jingle came from over her crib, across the room. Mae turned unerringly toward the sound and widened her pale eyes; watching, waiting, almost as if she were listening to the most fascinating fairy tale ever told. Holly worked her five-year-old brain hard and thought...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Callie was taking a much-deserved nap. She would never recall just what had pierced her dreams and made her stir fretfully. A slight sound, an unstealthy step? Some maternal instinct that spoke to her inner mischief-detector? She roused herself with the ease of all mothers of infants after many long nights spent half-awake.

She managed to get both feet in her slippers and one arm in a bathrobe before the crash came.

Her feet were moving before she had identified where the sound had come from. Perhaps her unconscious had been keeping tabs on the rooms, for her legs brought her to the nursery. A flash of blue and a broken-sounding "clonk" helped her single out the problem.

The beautiful mobile, the one Grandma had sent from Egypt, lay shattered on the floor. The little eyes that had once winked so charmingly out of the moon's face had been unceremoniously crushed. Only half of the sun's enigmatic smile remained intact, a thoroughly demystified Mona Lisa.

Mae sat in her playpen, waggling her arms at her mother, asking to be picked up. She showed no signs of upset or shock; indeed, she seemed more aware and alert than ever. Holly came running out of the washroom, her hands dripping wet and her face slightly red. She had nicked her pinkie on a stray bit of wire, but, she reflected, it had been worth it.

Holly felt that someone must take the blame for the so-called disaster, so she confessed to her father, somehow sensing he would be the more reasonable of the two parents. She was punished, of course - two days without dessert and no watching TV for the whole weekend, "and stay away from breakable, valuable things!" She had stopped listening halfway into the short lecture, choosing instead to reflect on her new role as the conquering heroine. She felt quite proud that she had defeated the Bad Ones, just like the clever princess had defeated the wicked ogres in her favorite book. Of course, she’d had to lie to her parents, but Holly had a scale-like conscience: she could tell that the weight of her half-truth had nothing on the good deed she’d done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Something had changed.

Callie paused on the stairs, waiting for the settling-in of the tension that hovered over her nerve-endings every time she entered the upper floor. Nothing. Delighted, she wandered absentmindedly down the upstairs hall, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Her youngest child was engrossed in a game of pile-the-blocks, with a healthy dash of clap-and-sing. Drew joined Callie at the doorway as the two breathed a sigh of joy. With each breath, each step their newly upright daughter took, the memory of that miniature storm of wills faded from the Yarrows' collective memory. Gradually, they forgot there had been a handmade windchime, brought back from Grandmother's travels in the Middle East; that Holly had been unusually clumsy, that Mae had ever been strange or fretful.

But the horror of what Holly had seen...she shivered, even now, to think of it.

So Holly, too, hid it away in the recesses of her child's mind, never to be taken out and examined, even when she got Old and Wise like her parents said she would be one day. She imagined locking it in a trunk, throwing all manner of heavy things on top of it, and leaving it in the attic of a house she would never enter again.

She would not think of Mae climbing the ladder to the attic, one bootie-clad foot at a time, scratching her tiny hands at the trapdoor, falling asleep with bloodied nails and whimpering at her dreams.

How had she unlocked the gate, with its hidden latch?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~

Art?-Deco Madness!

Even though I still have not found an apartment, I have accumulated a fair amount of essentials and non-essentials to go in one when I finally do. Besides what I detailed here, I have accumulated:
Have:
Flower Salad Plates
Aqua Salad Plates
Kitchen Canisters
Cookware
Cutlery Set.
Sheets in Ivory and for $38.50 on sale.
A 45-piece stainless steel Flatware set from Rogers & Co., bought for $7.50.
Ottoman Set - yes, I got them.
Of course, you can always want more.
Want:
Desk Chair
This comforter set OR
This one OR
This one. - Love this last one!
Bed Frame and Set
Sun Wall Clock
Etched Mirror
Etc.
Timely Soundtrack: "Turn on Me" by The Shins from Wincing the Night Away.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Don't let it whip-crack your life, // And bow out from the fight...Now, get back on that horse and ride."
What I Learned Today: What a Gu and a Zo are.

Savages! Everywhere!

Lest you all think I have been devoured by savage computer parts (they byte! Ok, come on, it wasn't that bad.), here I am! I am here!

So, I've been busy preparing for my second Buffy Sing-A-Long attendance in about a month. This time I'm dragging the Roman with me, and Sarsie Parsie, Sweet Sharon, and Emblem are all attending as well!

I'm also putting into motion plans to open up my custom-designed jeans business! Woohoo! Check out my Flickr set labelled Custom Jeans to see some of my work.

Timely Soundtrack: "Spooky Girlfriend" by Elvis Costello off of When I Was Cruel.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Ellas suenan otra música: // fantasías de metal // valses duros, al dictado. // Que se alcen desde siglos // todas iguales, distintas // como las olas del mar // y una gran alma secreta." from "Underwood Girls", a poem by Pedro Salinas.
What I Learned Today: Nothing I'm going to tell YOU. Sheesh!

Sad

Just kind of sad, that's all.
Apartment search is not going well.
Drama with significant other(s).
My saving graces: Friends, family, surrogate family, (Tarant)Ella the Spider Monkey, Occie (Octreuse) the Octopus, T2 (Thistle the Second) the Magically Disappearing and Reappearing Turtle.

Ok, just writing that down brought a smile to my face.
I love that I love little things.

Out of Time

Travelling...

If You Were Born in 2893...

Your Name Would Be: Hana Ara And You Would Be: A Time Traveler

If You Were Born in 2893

Timely Soundtrack: "You Kept Me Waiting Too Long (Long Long Long etc.)" by Television Personalities.
Quote Trapped in My Head:" All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five.
What I Learned Today: The capitals of several African Countries.

Shoulda Been

Well, well...

You Should Be A Libra

What's good about you: A total charmer, you easily find friends and allies What's bad about you: You have a secret side that's easily confused and depressed In love: you enjoy flirting, dating, and the whole process of falling for someone In friendship, you're: very social ... you rather be with your friends than be alone Your ideal job: fashion designer, makeup artist, or song writer Your sense of fashion: very feminine / masculine (depending on your gender) You like to pig out on: sweet stuff like ice cream and french toast

What Sign Should You Be?

Time Marches On

The Before:
Brown hair!

The after:
Red hair!
Whee!

Timely Soundtrack: "I Put A Spell on You" by the Alan Price set.
Quote Trapped in My Head: A movie, Forbidden Loves, about lesbian culture in 1950s Canada.
What I Learned Today: See above.

Gata Blanca

Soñe...
La gata blanca
con su nariz rosada
dibuja tatuajes
en mi cara

Me acaricia
lentamente
con su cola-cuerda
hilos de plumas
me hacen sonreir

Sonreir
su curiousidad:
Qué tienes, por qué duermes
las sombras ya vibran
sobre el mar

Vamos a volar
Me prometiste que hoy dia
podríamos ver los pajaros
desde arriba
entre suspiro, respiro, y aire

Esperé todo que pude
hasta que la luna lloraba
se murío seis veces
se nació siete veces
abriendo sus volcanes-ojos

se nace jugando
caza las estrellas
pillándolas con lengua-papel
cosquillas de exploración
se escapan

Siempre regresan
por pura curiousidad

~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~

Ornamental, My Dear Watson

Ideas for decorating my apartment:
Place lace as a wall border around the bedroom or living room.
Get plain-colored shelves and paint them shades of one color.
Paint plain shelves in ombré style, many colors.
Use photographs and/or pictures from magazines as a wall border.
Paint plain wooden or cloth blinds with colorful scenes or figures.
Get plain storage boxes and paint them with scenes or cover them with small mirrors/tiles.
Use the sari(s) I have as wall tapestries, wall borders, tablecloths, or to cover open bookshelves and unsightly areas (such as my stereo).
Use perfume bottles as decorations - place on rotating shelves.

What I have so far:
Bedding Part I
Bedspread/Slipcover
These in teal.
These in light blue.

What I want:
Bedding Switch-out Option 1
Bedding Option 2, only with beige sheets.
Bedding Option 3
Toy Box
Handy Blue Boxes
Star Lamp
Storage Ottomans - the poor woman's furniture AND closet!

I need blue salad plates and mugs.
A bed frame and mattress (and boxspring, I think).
A TV, TV cart, glassware, flatware, lamps, pillows, curtains or blinds, office/desk chair, picture frames, art frames, matting board, toaster, cutlery, bathroom rugs, blankets, towels...etc.

Timely Soundtrack: "The Moment I said It" by Imogene Heap off of Speak for Yourself.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "...In wilderness is the preservation of the world." - Henry David Thoreau.
What I Learned Today: What a Pyrrhic victory entails.

Alonespace

I am hoping to move in early April. Somewhere in the area, close enough so my family and friends will visit me, into a one-bedroom apartment. After so many years of sharing my space, I need to have 'alonespace'. The difficulty comes in determining what exactly I will need to buy, what I will be receiving from the 'rents (who need to condense two houses into one), and what I can do about the several months-long gap we have planned between when I move and when the rents move. It makes as little sense for me to buy new things as it does for them to give me the items they need from NY and bring the CT replacements to NY and use those...etc., etc.
These items will include:
Dining Room Table and Chairs (parents have a back-up I can use, either permanently or for a few months).
Cookware and Corningware (No idea what to do about this).
Tableware and Flatware (see above).
And so on.

I'm not complaining; I would love to receive secondhand stuff, whenever it comes to me. I just think it's amusing the predicament I will soon find myself in.

Timely Soundtrack: "Susie Q" by CCR.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Annoyed."
What I Learned Today: My target savings goal.

Gallows Love

Before the last line is written
the final stanza spoken
ended in due rhyme
There are thoughts
to be churned
wishes to attend
regrets to hurl to the wind
a heart to rend
and one dash of time
however its meter-measure

Drumbeat-driven march
bogged down with mud-thoughts
pictures and mementos
fresh-starched and sharp
left with nothing but hope
allow me to presume
I am dead from the nerves in
aorta pushing ice
through reluctant arteries
reins held tight on veins

Slipping out a choke-gasp
head and heart
held in iron grasp.
This swallower death
is neither cold, nor still;
it is awake, vivid, hot
like the angriest of tears
shed for no reason
kept close to the breast
to shatter one's chest

Diminishing the fight
takes second-hours
moment-years
the world is braided tight
knotted around each joint
sweeping it under the ashes
under shallow breaths
the loss of everything dear
the cloudier the vision
the more this death

runs bloody clear.
~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~