tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78151312011-04-21T13:44:07.921-05:00(she really likes to push those ideas around. read on or avert your gaze.)honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.comBlogger821100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-41082004190219573192009-05-12T22:23:00.001-05:002009-05-12T22:26:10.123-05:00

But you're not. You've just gone underground. A bit. When I read the part about no comments and no numbers, it felt like a new Dogme 95. Blogging in its purest form. And I thought that was beautiful. And inspired. Well, it inspired me anyway. Not that I'm going to jettison my comments. Or my statcounter. Or any of my silly baggage.But I'm glad you're still there. When you hit your stride, dancing

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-52924333530096448492007-10-15T11:25:00.001-05:002007-10-15T11:53:41.329-05:00

I do have grandparents, you know. And though I don't think I'll evuh EVUH be in the mood to wear that Bible belt again, I could allow that a transcendent, immortal being might choose to interact with americuns (and if your faith is boldly condescending enough, that being might choose to interact with those foreigners, too.) And I will allow that this *if I keep breathing in through my nose this

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-4488837845325090632007-09-02T22:56:00.000-05:002007-09-02T22:58:31.554-05:00

It's boring. (And it hurts!)

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1145418805262597972006-04-18T22:52:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:28:07.810-05:00

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1145399017414057892006-04-18T17:19:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:28:28.326-05:00

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1145398762911581232006-04-18T17:17:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:29:41.968-05:00

and if i feel as though i'm slipping through fences, all of them whitewashed and none of them real, you won't help me, will you. set them up over and over, agility trials, whippet thin and sad. can't be cool anymore. can't. just can't. you ruin things. you ruin good things. lovely, perfect things. turning tables, gathering friends, father's anger, mother's absence. feel better on the other side

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1145223394260703022006-04-16T16:13:00.000-05:002007-09-02T23:26:14.108-05:00

David Blanchflower, an economics professor at Dartmouth, published findings recently from a study that included thousands of people in 35 nations, indicating that if you're single or in a miserable marriage, you'd need to earn $100,000 more per year than you already do to be as happy as a happily married person.It gives me pause- I may need to honestly reassess the pep talk I give single friends

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1144972181497297722006-04-13T18:31:00.000-05:002007-09-02T23:29:25.592-05:00

Ah, it was lovely. Maybe this movie wasn't quite right in the head, but when Joseph Gordon-Levitt showed up like a grown-ass man who couldn't be told he was still living a boy's life, well, I got it.Now, I've gotta run. You stay parked.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1144805732952361652006-04-11T20:32:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:30:26.859-05:00

It's not news (sometimes it is, though) but I like it. *pat, pat, pat* I'm thinking of what I can possibly contribute. Something factually incorrect, hopefully, so that I can watch the good people of the world stream like little ants all over the debris I leave, carting off the useless bits and turning the rest into fossil fuel. Or something.H+P's back.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1144786923365968172006-04-11T15:18:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:30:55.329-05:00

Please step back from the painting, m'am. And, sir, you are not allowed to have a camera in here. Egyptian Photography in the 21st Century is in the next room. No, that next room. No problem. Happy to help.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1144274879422461332006-04-05T16:55:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:31:10.477-05:00

and i'm your judy g. and we can fool around with other people but we're idiots not to be happy together.maybe i know you better. maybe i like you best. maybe if i've got to disappoint anybody (or be disappointed) i'd rather break up with your brother. (maybe those aren't even options. maybe those aren't the only options. maybe i'm grateful. maybe i'm an ingrate.)maybe life is messy. maybe a

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1143848347727311272006-03-31T17:01:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:32:47.440-05:00

children are born of the will of the fatheror at least that book says sobut anywaywhat if your father says no to your whole existenceor beats you and yellsi brought you inand i'll take you outthen wouldn't you like to have a say in the whole thing?and where's your mother, honey? are you lost?let's go find your mombecause i'd like to have a word with herchildren are born of the will of the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1132333900789937242005-11-18T11:11:00.000-06:002007-09-02T23:39:48.260-05:00

Am very happy today b/c I am phasing out of my job.Am phasing out of my job b/c I was being caught between the gears.I was being caught between the gears because the owner was telling me things she wanted me to do and not telling my manager what she wanted me to do.And in not telling my manager what she wanted me to do she created a weird sitch between me and the manager.This weird sitch between

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1132333864131536102005-11-18T11:10:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:33:01.912-05:00

So, I think what shocked me was that in this sad house with only one light on, suddenly I felt joy. Joy as you met me at the door. (I meant to ask you why you were here so late in the Louisiana night. That would have made sense. But I didn't ask.) And when you took me in your arms and walked me backward through room after room, I didn't question. (Although, I should have, right? Not just as to

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1131337050897817902005-11-06T22:06:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:33:57.166-05:00

Ever had a family member from whom you wish you could just permantly un-relate yourself? There's only one real viper in the brood where I come from. Not to say that no one else is a snake but everyone else is kind of out in the open with their meanness. I pretty much hate contact with this individual though, hate to even be reminded of them.I used to date a lawyer who insisted that loyalty was

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1130954855571018642005-11-02T12:07:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:34:10.818-05:00

(Since I gave up hope, I feel a lot better.)

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1126337779217759662005-09-10T01:58:00.000-05:002007-09-02T23:50:35.165-05:00

I saw the path of this thing before I flew to Costa Rica a couple of weeks ago. I worried and fretted for a couple of days before becoming uncalm and cranky all day Tuesday. That Tuesday. No one on my rah-rah-yay! trip could understand my problem. The rules of the game were that we couldn't discuss or ask where any of us had gone to school, what we'd studied, the work we did. Or where we were

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1120146560567655422005-06-30T10:48:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:39:09.552-05:00

*Ahem!* We will leave the chest hair and crazy, cool medallions for another day. (And no, this isn't more backstory delivered in a tortuously slow and circuitous fashion. You wish.)Okay, so I'm watching t.v. here lately (it's one of the things I do) and my TiVo offered up a trailer for Peter Jackson's King Kong remake. Lord love him, he cast Jack Black, I think as a sort of Peter Jackson-ish

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1119555432412469632005-06-23T14:36:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:05:10.841-05:00

In fact physicists insist it makes no sense that we can only remember the past. Why can't we remember the future?Penrose (Sir Roger Penrose if you're nasty) already has peed in this pool or at least has stated his intention to jump in and try. Straining his tiny little scientist's bladder.I will chide him in the next, fascinating installment of String Theory Backstory. I do a really good chide.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1119554132056329972005-06-23T12:03:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:08:34.902-05:00

Which reminds me of Ingrid Bergman asking where the noses go, but that's another topic for another day. And hopefully you've all figured that out already anyway. (Start with a digression, I always say.) Anyhoo, the science forthwith:So, I've been thinking about time lately, and by lately, I mean for the last I-don't-know-how-many years, I guess. See, every time I have a long drive, I listen to

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1119391615562745172005-06-21T17:00:00.002-05:002007-09-03T00:12:00.018-05:00

Lukas asked for backstory on that String Theory Prayer thing you see I wrote a while back. I said I'd get to it as soon as I got home from being Oout and Aboout. But then I've been sick (coughing up green stuff, thanks for asking) for the past week and not exactly in a writing mood. But I'm getting to it now asbestos I can.I do think I'm somewhat good at writing the dramatic and weary stuff,

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1117511934676874802005-05-30T22:58:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:40:06.539-05:00

Thanks, Lukas. This is inner life stuff. I start with one part "God is not a pooper" and add another part of particle physics/ quantum mechanics, throw in a splash of a grand (almost) unified theory and realize that I've got more power than I thought.Part of "more" is mine. I aim at everybody I love.Gimme dat,H+P

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1117483331354643682005-05-30T14:35:00.001-05:002009-05-29T12:50:37.596-05:00

Hey, I remember back to when I was sad and weary and my needs weren't met- when I was isolated and undone.And I remember forward to when you healed all of my diseases and made every dream I have come true and flooded my entire life with love and comfort and rest. And joy- did I forget to mention the joy? Or the peace like a buzzing river that rearranges me right down to my very molecules and

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1117148497485282692005-05-26T17:29:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:20:35.384-05:00

Well, I know the answer to that one. Spike is magnetic on my fridge. This is because a good friend who is older (and therefore wiser, I swear), shares my addiction to Buffy and Angel re-runs and sent me the magnet after we bravely and enthusiastically discussed the love which dares not speak its name. Honestly, I do wonder at grown women groovin' on a couple of shows which were aimed at young (

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1117146559499460512005-05-26T17:04:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:20:51.273-05:00

I swear, y'all, I'm an ass kicker trapped inside a Hashimoto's having body. So, I need the energy equivalent of a plastic surgeon, I guess. (Have recently become addicted to Nip/ Tuck on DVD and need Season 2 stat!) "Alright, H+P, what don't you like about yourself?" the kind doc will say. And I'll speak my truth. That's with a capital T, of course. And I'll hear about the procedure, the risks,

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1116880836948990722005-05-23T15:39:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:40:26.421-05:00

... if you know. If I didn't thank you for that, I should have. (Hate to make the same mistake twice.)

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1116653832318032832005-05-21T00:14:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:30:06.011-05:00

Saw this film tonight and wow was it ever dull (inane editing choices, threadbare acting, the most obvious of choices on plot and foreshadowing. And wonder of wonders- it managed to make sex boring.) I studied Kinsey when I was- what?- sixteen, I guess, or seventeen, working on my psych major. (Ok, the first run at my psych major. After completing my literature major, I dropped psychology and

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1116457797056946162005-05-18T17:29:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:32:30.006-05:00

Some days, when I am feeling grim and grimmer, I speak to you. And I expect you think you are your very own person with your very own life and reactions to me and everything around you. But you're not. Not here. Because on days like this one, I have turned you into a little, black stove. And I will tell you what I can't tell anyone else. And I know- I just know- there is no one there to hear me

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1116271546224780622005-05-16T12:28:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:34:58.076-05:00

By the end of the semester, we were the last ones left. I think we were social pariahs by that point- at least that's the conclusion we came to sitting in a little bar at lunch on an overcast late fall day in Italy. It didn't matter that you'd watched culture shock rip through your friends or the entire fuzzy, fashionista-brained group you'd come here with. Or through your own personality, for

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1116022072581903392005-05-13T17:03:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:42:28.581-05:00

Realized I’ve been fantasizing about running away from my entire extended family lately. I think I’ll actually follow through on this, say for two or three years at least. I think it would be incredibly healthy. Not to mention fun. They’re grown. If I can’t stop playing mommy now, when can I? Eeeeeshk. No wonder I don’t have any cravings for kids. I swear to Jehovah I am tired.So my sister is in

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1115160930753246682005-05-03T17:40:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:37:46.340-05:00

I put "Longmire does Romance Novels" back up there. Click on the title and enjoy his latest ones and a few new ones from contributors. I know I shouldn't laugh at some of these... but dear me. Crazy times call for crazy novel covers.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1115056953242650962005-05-02T12:50:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:40:33.183-05:00

My teeth hurt, yo, so I am eating soft foods and trying to figure out how to use a damn water pik (plus brush, plus floss.) So far I am a fetching failure at this braces game. I don't remember it being this difficult before... A guy at the grocery store made me smile, then laugh, and I did that ridiculous squish-your-lips-closed-over-braces thing that wrinkles your chin. Wow. Told you I'd be a

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1114657363140270892005-04-27T21:51:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:42:18.687-05:00

Impossibly superstitious, she stoops to be conquered. And if you saw her you couldn't blame her: fast walk, loud talk and smilin' just a little too wide. She orders up her next plate and the deity groans behind the counter. But she's the customer, dammit! Nary a word will the greasemonkey God say as he puts oil in her car, coffee in her cup.Velvety air blankets the door and the street and the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1114648520860467522005-04-27T19:22:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:43:43.858-05:00

I have friends- male friends- who speak ill of women generally upon every occasion they possibly can. Supposedly, I am to understand that I am an exception. A veritable good woman, as it were. Hear ye, hear ye. Anyhoo, this complaining of theirs causes me to feel sorry for the mooks who've encountered the bad b-word time and again and also to wonder at their judgment.But then I think- haven't I

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1114646722245940732005-04-27T18:50:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:46:54.450-05:00

Or so I've decided. Mustn't let the nerd factor overwhelm the gorgeousness that is moi. ('Scuze me while I laugh at that... but not because it isn't true, mind you. I am stunning. It says so right here in my daily affirmation. And my daily affirmation never lies. Or at least it won't be lying after I use it thirty times. Or something. I should re-check the directions.) I have put off buying more

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1114552262938584112005-04-26T15:31:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:45:08.531-05:00

Went out Saturday night after Jazzfest ended for the day with some old friends from Ohio (and a couple of new ones from I-forget-where.) We ended up at One Eyed Jack's. Just missed Eric Lindell (New Orleans native, funky roots music and a goatee that would've made a Havlicek proud) but noticed him standing around in his blacknwhite slip-on Van's to watch C.C. Adcock perform. (And, yes, I know

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1114068042418852752005-04-21T02:12:00.000-05:002007-09-03T00:48:39.199-05:00

so i am supposed to be sleeping. cuz i'm supposed to drag my friends around for beignets and whatnot at 8 a.m. or so. (who chose that hour?) my house is sparkly clean for more guests arriving tomorrow p.m. i'm ready to go. and i can't. go, that is, to sleep.i can't decide if this is tragic or not. after all, i'm just going to park my butt in a chair out on the grass in front of various music

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1113429488975767552005-04-13T16:36:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:47:03.538-05:00

Is an ear to chop off, probably. (Preferably someone else's.) Would someone please tell my nephew that he's going to hell posthaste? Please? I'd really appreciate it. I promise to repay the favor later. You know, after I die. And become a saint. Oh, and while you're at it- maybe you could pray to St. What's-his-face for my sanctification. I'm obviously not quite there yet. Where's my upside

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1112835949828889262005-04-06T19:04:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:48:56.011-05:00

Usually the man sleeps like he's been dead to the world for over a decade, but this is different. His eyes open and he swivels his head around to view the rest of his room. Nothing has changed here. But something... something has woken him with a jolt. Hope. That's what this is, he thinks. He knows he should be happy, but his head is spinning. He feels confused and teary-eyed at the same time.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1112553215700668452005-04-03T13:26:00.001-05:002009-05-02T16:49:23.124-05:00

I look but there are no messages. No calls coming or going. I see a smudge and wipe it away with my sleeve. Now there is only a picture I took of my own face- three quarter view, inner elf showing- looking back at me. And this is all I ever see when I look for you. My own reflection- my search, not yours- shows up every time. My heart is quiet. Too kind to say, I told you so. It's safe now to

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1111780391518882442005-03-25T13:20:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:54:39.285-05:00

I think you have to suffer in a hospital before you fear being in one. That or watch someone else suffer. Nursing homes are the same way. When I was younger, of course, I'd seen no such thing, so I put my hand upon the wall to feel the nubbly plastic coated wallpaper that ran along the hall of this assisted living home where an old friend of my parents lived with his wife. I trailed behind my

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1109296039397192862005-02-24T19:36:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:56:19.212-05:00

So, I'm cooking drunk tonight. Correction- I am CUTTING drunk tonight. Yes, I am cutting various vegetables with a very large knife while intoxicated. I highly recommend it. (Seriously, every time I drink- which is rarely- I feel it like a calling- a vocation. I am drawn to it. Would love to make this feeling my life's work. Is that so wrong?) Emmylou Harris sings Thanks to You (Cowgirl's Prayer,

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1109034518060272652005-02-21T19:05:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:56:57.421-05:00

Now why in the world don't I get back into that kind of shape? It's actually possible for me, but I can't be bothered...Fat and Happy,H+P

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1108081717847483072005-02-10T17:38:00.001-06:002009-05-02T16:57:53.854-05:00

have received the first housewarming present (i think) and do promise to put a picture of it up as soon as i have taught myself to do that. (am technologically challenged, of course. can't be globally gifted. that would be greedy.)and to whosoever among you are beginning to feel impatient for all of this gifting which was promised to you, i say holdeth your horses. it will happen. h+p keeps her

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1108071898413703092005-02-10T14:16:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:04:17.074-05:00

This year's Mardi Gras festivities drew the smallest crowds in the last 10, 15, or 25 years depending on who was doing the talking about such things. Which meant that you could actually walk on Bourbon Street around midnight quite comfortably. (I refuse to think about what I was quite comfortably stepping in, however.) Now that my guests have dearly departed, I am tired as hayell. Indeed, I am

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1107407846938490042005-02-02T22:52:00.000-06:002007-09-03T01:05:26.285-05:00

the head turns andthe heart wanderspast cypress knees andarms of lead(wish you were in my pretty stead)under water which never risesthis dislocated guilt!this phantom pain!this loss of nothing ever had(you can lead a horse butonly i know what what was called for)and this is how my garden grows,enclosed

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1107284123273467972005-02-01T13:45:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:05:15.530-05:00

(And Now It's Too Warm)Our mutual friends have lost their earthly goods in a fire which burned down their apartment building. No one is hurt, thank God. Still they've lost their junk (apart from guitars, paintings, wallets, and cell phone.) So, if anybody is in the mood to help them restock and replace and refurnish, please let me know and I'll fill you in on what's going on. I know it's not

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1107016363001447932005-01-29T10:19:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:11:42.460-05:00

I was off every single time. We went first to the sushi place my friends recommended and it was truly awful. She’d never had sushi before and I felt bad that the introduction was sub par. She was a good sport, though, trying to figure out the chopsticks, spilling her soy and wasabi and finally just using her fingers to rid every piece of its seaweed wrapping. (She didn’t like the taste of seaweed

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1105558643065754092005-01-12T14:01:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:15:01.475-05:00

So, I'm reading The Da Vinci Code finally. (I like to wait until the entire world has gotten over a bestseller and THEN pick it up. That way, my ability to discuss the damn thing is so timely.) Anyhoo, the book (as if you don't know) keeps rattling on about "the sacred feminine"- most specifically, the concept that Jesus was more mortal than the church has let on and was in fact in love with,

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1105479542204798972005-01-11T15:37:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:18:44.286-05:00

Someone saw her coming up out of that culvert naked. Her arms raised in a foolish attempt to keep the blood in. Or maybe she was waving for help. I can’t remember now how she'd ended up in his van the night before. Was she a runaway looking for a ride or some money? Did he kidnap her? I can’t remember. But he raped her, beat her severely and then used an ax to chop off both of her arms above the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1105474691170946582005-01-11T14:11:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:19:22.602-05:00

78 degrees and sunny today. Wore jeans and a t-shirt to the park to walk his doggedness and it was just too much. The weather gods want to see my legs. Me, however, I am virtuous and perspiring. No, really I just underestimated the heat. So silly of me. It is after all the 11th of January.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1105474013949911702005-01-11T14:03:00.000-06:002007-09-03T01:06:23.184-05:00

That girl is fastAnd she was made for joy. She's gonna run until she breaks.(Don't try to denyI caught you lookin'.A fairer phoenix never rose.)Be quick now, childAnd don't hold back.Regrets will burn you where you stand. Faint heart never won fucking-anything.Faint heart never won at all. H+P 10/08/04

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1102638383585652002004-12-09T17:39:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:24:04.888-05:00

I have finally figured out (or maybe just accepted) that I prefer men's magazines to women's magazines. The tone and intensity of the writing in men's publications is more direct and there's a lot less fluff. Now granted, I really do like the damn things "for the articles". And, okay, of course, the fashion direction is going to be off mark for me. And I am unmoved by pictures of actresses/

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1102220426206177552004-12-04T22:06:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:25:02.902-05:00

I went out tonight smelling like Stella McCartney's mother's roses. (You heard me.) Around my neck was a bit of silk cord and austrian crystals in the form of one hard, brilliant butterfly. Adonis Rose headed up a quintet that played to celebrate my resurrection from the dead. I danced four dances- one wrong. (I hereby do solemnly swear that I will damn well learn the electric slide once and for

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1102186427191868002004-12-04T12:49:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:25:39.375-05:00

Last night- or was it this morning?- I dreamed that I had a very light weight lawnmower. I was at somebody or other's house. They had one of those overgrown, supremely-useless acre-of-dumb-grass front yards surrounded by a chain link fence. Not pretty. Whatever.The point of the dream was that I used that lawnmower (brand new, thought you'd like to know) and in no time at all made that yard look

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1102117141084886412004-12-03T17:15:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:27:44.574-05:00

I worried about her, out painting in the cold like that. I'd hired her to paint the front door to match the neighbors' door which she'd painted last year. Pretty colors, too, just not ones I'd choose. But, I thought, the colors would be here after I'd moved away, so I decided the doors should match on this uptown double. Much more visually pleasing that way.She arrived early in the morning and

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1101849472765760752004-11-30T14:48:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:31:20.956-05:00

I have a few oceans which never fail to satisfy and fashion is one of them. Being truly, madly, deeply obsessed with fashion- its historical, psychological, commercial, technical and visual (among other sensual) aspects, I have to ask where "stripper shoes" (y'know those big ol' platform soled, 70's by way of 30's, dancer by way of pleaser shoes) came from, what they mean, and whether they would

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1101843941277936512004-11-30T14:31:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:32:04.886-05:00

I don't know what it is and neither do you. Honestly, I'm not trying to be an ass about it, but I really well and truly do not know what the molecule of the month is. Nor could I describe it even if I did. Chemistry is the only subject I ever came anywhere close to flunking. My brain will jump all over universes, but tiny things in odd shapes, well... it refuses to pay attention. My horizons need

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1100644919213344712004-11-16T15:57:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:34:26.832-05:00

(Look Lively!)Okay, I'm back and I'm causing trouble. I like my idea of sending housewarming gifts to people who have moved (or moved back) or who haven't moved at all. Lately. Because, sez I, you really can't have your house too warmed. No, you cannot. So, I suggest a giftages free for all in this here blog world of ours. Obviously, Nashville must top the list because those crazy potato eating

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1100241668670602012004-11-11T23:08:00.001-06:002009-05-02T17:37:50.689-05:00

I cannot believe I’ve landed here. In this half of a house which is not even set up to receive the people who call it home. No one fits in this place. No one is well. No one is happy. No one is comforted. I feel the disappointment of a fool who knows better and still has not learned. Homecomings are usually this way. Harder, much harder than staying gone.Every little fantasy I have carefully

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1099071860897836202004-10-29T12:39:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:38:17.965-05:00

Who knew such a thing existed? I've got a bad case of it (on top of my bad case of adrenal fatigue- good stuff.) I still like everybody plenty fine, but feel like I'm beating a dead blog here lately, so I'm going to take the blog equivalent of a nap. A short nap. (I'll read you in my sleep, though, promise.)Lucky for you, I don't snore.

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1097655965457315872004-10-13T02:13:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:41:27.782-05:00

It rolls up green to a line of trees along the Mississippi close to where I live. I talked smack on my cell phone with big bro' Chez Jo and wielded the leash with the other hand. This was silly. But I've already explained why I don't think clearly enough to do things logically. Anyway, I walked my dog. He did what dogs do. And then some.He's a rescued dog. Discovered wandering through southern

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1097531788318788312004-10-11T15:00:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:45:16.889-05:00

I know I have been cranky lately while I've been sick. In fact, I reached a very low point here recently (which you couldn't know about without me describing it.) A couple of weeks ago, I hit a one year anniversary of adrenal exhaustion due to out-of-control pollen allergies. Truly, I am a person to be pitied. I moved to New Orleans- one of the premier party citays on the planet- and a month and

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1097247853020466302004-10-08T09:43:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:46:20.899-05:00

But you're not. You've just gone underground. A bit. When I read the part about no comments and no numbers, it felt like a new Dogme 95. Blogging in its purest form. And I thought that was beautiful. And inspired. Well, it inspired me anyway. Not that I'm going to jettison my comments. Or my statcounter. Or any of my silly baggage.But I'm glad you're still there. When you hit your stride, dancing

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1097008565443947372004-10-05T11:51:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:54:37.735-05:00

I've taken over one huge work table in the corner by windows closed against the mosquitoes which swarm in the late Florence summer. I am prepared to work all night if necessary to finish a project which just does not capture my imagination. By tomorrow morning, I need to have completely inked over 100 illustrations for original fashion designs. Children's clothing. Children's clothing made out of

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1096501243385761962004-09-29T17:44:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:56:01.819-05:00

My parents caught on to my obsession, of course, when they saw me reading like a little crazy person. I’m not sure what they said to themselves or what they felt about the whole thing, but what I felt from them was their great pleasure in me and their great pride in the way I didn’t seem to be stuck in any small definitions of childhood- not, at least, where reading was concerned. I can remember

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095980439836893202004-09-23T17:34:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:56:27.862-05:00

The Wages of Loveby H+P and L'O'LTom Waits lost his granny on 9th & Hennepin. When he got to the vigilantly vapid neighborhood dive bar he remembered in the Village, he realized what he’d done. He scratched 5 and a half day’s worth of beard on his chin, rubbed his putrescent eyes and figgered what the hell, might as well have a drink before I go looking.That woman’s stronger’n I am, he grimaced

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095755687627808382004-09-21T03:52:00.002-05:002009-05-02T17:56:44.859-05:00

I have been dragging my feet on picking a champ in this poetry contest. Today I faced up to my big reason for the delay. I just can't stand to say to all a y'all crazy people that one of you is better than the others. Even if that is understood to be a matter of my subjective opinion. I feel like a silly primary school P.E. teacher who insists that "we're all winners!" and refuses to let the kids

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095654537278577082004-09-19T23:04:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:57:02.797-05:00

I was no faster than the rest. No better at it. I learned exactly when they did, and in exactly the same way. I don’t know what happened after that. I have never known. But I picked up speed when they did not. As if the pull of the words was intrinsic and all-powerful. Until, finally, my eyes absorbed print everywhere they fell. And my brain retained its comprehension of the words before my sight

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095450136490738502004-09-17T15:25:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:57:19.636-05:00

I am so pleased that my city was ignored by Ivan. When I got back yesterday in the early evening, I went for a walk in Audubon Park. They'd put all the trash containers away in preparation for impending doom and the little rebel dog's biznasty had to be carried for a little while too long. (That was the only downside to the walk.) Other than that though, it was calm and beautiful. Tons of people

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095208809680149222004-09-14T18:12:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:57:35.746-05:00

So, an 8 hour drive later, I am safely perched right on the funky line between Texas and Arkansas, in a town appropriately named Texarkana. (The 'ph' is silent.) My room has a fridge, an internet connection and K_sra's rebel dog.Despite the fine company, I am tired and the cable news is freaking me out. Talking some smack about a category 3 hurricane that hit Nawlins in the mid-60's and left the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1095015073501323802004-09-12T14:33:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:57:55.688-05:00

I was going to write something 11-ish yesterday and I just couldn't. (Moment of silence and all that.) Anyway, since I am feeling quite an urge to lighten up and be veddy silly- take a break from heavy stuff, you know?- I decided to hold a poetry slam. Honest + Popular style."What does that mean?", you may be asking yourself. And, Yourself, I tell you, I am happy to explain. Except that, never

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1094748988256258752004-09-09T10:08:00.001-05:002009-05-02T17:59:03.781-05:00

The canvas tilts beneath me and, feet secure, I lean back across the hard hull. Salt and cold splash onto my skin and warm under the sun. Even the wind on me is warm. And I am at your back. By your side. You have turned this light thing into a chariot over the water. Out here, lines in hand, you have no doubts. You have not forgotten one single thing about this love. Strength and joy radiating

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1094337082095646492004-09-04T15:11:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:02:04.046-05:00

CommandoI'd noticed her shoes in the morning- one brown, one navy Ferragamo bow flat. She'd laughed when she caught me looking and told me that she had mixed the pairs accidentally. I told her about the time I'd forgotten to take off my huge lion slippers one morning before heading to my 10th grade homeroom. And that's how it started- with me trading one embarrassment for another- always the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1092906084879344522004-08-19T03:54:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:02:37.271-05:00

I sat in that chair and flipped him off repeatedly underneath the huge black cape I wore to keep the itchy snips off my skin and clothes. It was my fault anyway. I’d called at the last minute for cut and color only to find out that my girl was gone. The 4th one to leave the place in less than a year. I’ve managed enough businesses to know that the problem wasn’t likely to be found in the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1092861563581263702004-08-18T14:54:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:03:47.507-05:00

I graduated high school when I was sixteen. I started the year as a junior and ended up as something else. This is what my high school diploma says:*******Dayspring AcademyTo all to whom these presents shall come, Greetings(my full name is printed here)having satisfactorily completed the required Course of Study prescribed byMorning Glory Center for Learning Enrichment and Therapy, Inc.of the

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1092781538752298432004-08-17T17:11:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:04:47.661-05:00

You know how you meet people who just make you happy? People, it turns out, you also have a knack for making happy? This guy,Jaeson, is one of those. He is living proof that working for McKinsey & Company will kill your sense of humor. Once while watching the dancing bears (dancing bares, ahem, dancing girls) beside me during a Cleveland Cavs halftime, he sang this song: "There's something in my

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1092515901401415722004-08-14T15:12:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:05:56.730-05:00

It was all her idea- I think. Usually her music, definitely her ideas on how we should stand, how we should dress. Her irritation when our practices wandered all over the map. We'd completely missed the intrinsic joy- the whole damn point of making music in the first place- by the time we were teenagers. We never got past a certain point as a group. Some lovely things happened when we wandered

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1091758520394444832004-08-05T21:12:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:06:19.620-05:00

"Nothing," she concluded, "is more beautiful than a woman with a meek and submissive spirit."I blinked. And thought, "Yeah, right."

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1091488074177763372004-08-02T17:21:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:06:45.518-05:00

Other students insisted that all three of them had eating disorders. They ran along the Arno River religiously every evening right before dark. They did seem to subsist on bottled water and bulk candy. And McDonald's ice cream cones. I didn't know if this really proved they were ill or if it simply indicated that they were a little nutritionally stupid. Either way, not my business. The semester

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1091485177758949842004-08-02T16:53:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:07:20.641-05:00

clearing the airwe eat our elderspat each others' backsthere, there, now that's a good burp!and fall into sleepdroolingdreamingand damnedwe wake and knowthat if we haven't yetwe soon will have to shitallovereverythingmuch as they didmaybe ours won't stink!i'm not sure it's a valid hope, butti know that when i rememberthe pastmy insides hurtand i have to go

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815131.post-1091299430818904542004-07-31T14:30:00.001-05:002009-05-02T18:08:18.467-05:00

Two years ago, on my first visit to New Orleans, I saw a GORRRRgeous piece of folk art: a black Jesus was on a cross with women's shoes dripping from his nailed palms. Over his head was a banner reading, "Jesus Says Buy More Shoes." I wanted to buy it but I didn't have the balls. Instead I bought a flattened metal trash can lid reading "Not Mad, Not Sad, Be Jolly", with a self-portrait of a

honest + popularhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17876426820748555139noreply@blogger.com3