February 28, 2005
the Ballad of Earendil, illustrated by Sam
JRR would prolly roll over in his grave to see this sort of post-apocalyptic video game interpretation of his mythic verses, but he did have a sense of humor, so p'raps it would amuse him...
Sam says I should show all the pages:
the winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
I've been a mama for some time now, and while I often marvel at my son, it's not all that often that he really surprises me. I guess I'm getting that mother's blase, having seen so much of his brilliance, and shenanigans.... I'm gonna have to shake that off, I'd hate to miss any of this precious time!
This morning, I was reading to him from 'The Fellowship of the Ring". Tolkien is a brilliant writer, but given too very, very long turns of phrase and loads of poetic description. Sometimes Sam seems to glaze over. He's a very kinetic little boy and almost always needs something to keep his hands-or mouth!-busy while he listens...
Anyway, I'd come to the part where Frodo, recovering from his wounding by the Ringwraith's Morgul-knife, is listening to Bilbo chant his latest poem, the ballad of Earendil.
Sam did not appear to be listening at all, so I skipped some verses, thinking this long poetising must surely be the most boring for him.
The chapter ended, and Sam turns to me:
"I love that song. I want to write that down when we get home, OK?"
Sheesh. So much for momniscience! I confessed that I'd skipped part of it and reread it to him in it's full poetic glory immediately.
Earendil is a mariner, I wonder if it's all the ships and stormy sea adventuring that captured his attention?
does your surgeon play video games?
If not, you might want to find one that does. According to Dr. James Clarence Rosser Jr, a 'virtuoso' laparoscopic surgeon at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York, it's an excellent way to train for this complex surgical skill, involving ultra small video cameras.
Apparently, if you can play a mean game of Super Monkey Ball, you may have the mastery of hand-eye coordination and keen depth perception necessary for delicately tying tiny knots in a piece of suturing thread inside someones body by watching it on screen.
Dr Rosser describes this as akin to "tying your shoelaces with three-foot-long chopsticks" while watching it all on television.
He's actually started a training program for doctors, using video games. According to a study he co-authored; 'surgeons who played video games for at least three hours a week were 27 percent faster and made 37 percent fewer mistakes than surgeons who did not play video games.'
The medical profession, never one to take such change gracefully is kicking up a fuss, but...
'He typically throws back his head and laughs loudly at the notion of resistance, something he faced as a black boy growing up in the segregated South. "I step up," Rosser said in his characteristic blend of hip-hop swagger and scientific exactitude. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they don't think they want to do."'
His nickname is Butch.
Hmmm... Odd choice for a surgical genius, but it sounds about right.
Read the article
February 27, 2005
the courage of love paintings
February 26, 2005
it's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's...
THE INVINCIBLE SLUT!!!
February 25, 2005
it's 7:12 in the morning,
normal people get up and breakfast at this hour.
I'm going back to bed.
if it scares you, look it in the eyes...
if it scares you too much, poke it in the eyes and run!
she is raging
it's a dangerous time beneath the covers.
my crazyloving girl!
she'll squirm and writhe and beg, but-
don't you know, fool slut.
years of love in her pounding,
she'd fly so fast,
I can wrestle her down,
but she's a strong one.
It's no damn good.
February 24, 2005
gorgeous moon out tonight
Could hardly believe my eyes walking home from work tonight.
I'd made enough tips to get a hot pastrami sub and a pretty green lambswool sweater with a little hole in it(Buffalo Exchange-I swear that place EATS tips, it KNOWS when I have cash in my hot little pocket and sucks me in, lures and seduces me with all it's beautiful soft bargain-priced pretties).
I'd just devoured the hot chewy goodness and was rounding a corner, when I saw her and stopped in my tracks.
My lil digital camera cannot capture the scope of her brilliant round orange fullness... Not with all the photoshopping in the world could I recreate it.
Man, I'm so tiiiiiiiirrrred. Whatever weasely little bug I've got, though it hasn't managed to manifest into a full blown cold, s'definately got me dragging.... Especially after giving three massages, getting one massage(mmmm...thanks, Jane) and walking on home.
M'about ready to just crawl into that nice red flannel and snooze the evening away.
Wish I had a book to read.
Prolly couldn't keep my eyes open past page one yo.
it's quiet around here without all the light sabres
Sam's not charging about HIIIIIAAAAAAing, and whamming into everything and everybody with his toobers n zots light sabre... He made it special, himself, with a whacking handle-it doubles as a light CLUB when you turn it around. Watching Star Wars for the first time has definately had an impact around here.
But alas, he's at his dad's, so Rebecca and I will have to fight our battles with less civilised weapons...
What is it with light sabres anyway? They seem to cut through everything, except the beam of another light sabre-I guess light can't cut light? And why is it that the Jedi, great master warriors that they are, can't keep a grip on their weapons?
They're always-whoops, there goes another one!-losing them.
I can't believe I sat through the Phantom Menace of Dreck AND the Clone Wars of Smarmy Romance again...
The things I do for my kid!
February 23, 2005
Don't scratch the surface.
Not served whole, pop-eyed like one of those fishes with it's head, tail,
I'd stew it for you if I knew how. Fillet it,
Minced with fine words or crusted with sweet brown sugar.
I try, but somehow it always spills out, dreadful eyeballs bulging, angry spines prickling-impossible to swallow.
Even when I say nothing! Somehow it's there in the silence,
You can't cook that.
February 22, 2005
heed no nightly noises...
My voice is pretty hoarse with the tail end of this cold.
It makes for some interesting characterizations whilst reading to Sam. Worked out pretty well for the gruff Farmer Maggot, and the nasty, snuffling Black Rider, fairly well for Old Tom Bombadil with all his merry songs, but not nearly so apropos for Goldberry and her 'clear tones like the wind rustling the flowers by the river'-I'm afraid her songs sounded more like a sore-throated toad pretending to be an elven maiden!
Sam had an interesting guess as to who the Black Rider was, due partly to my voice-'I know that voice', he said,' it's Gollum!' Hmmmph, I guess I'll have to differentiate a little more... Similar sneaking and sniffing and creepiness, but very different creatures!
I didn't correct him directly, but I did point out that the Rider is a BIG person.
It's been fun reading so far. I look forward to showing him the movie, when we're done with the book.
He's happily reading Rowan the final Bone book at the moment.
What a gorgeous day-not only sunny, but it even feels warmish! P'raps I'll take the monkeys to the beach...
February 19, 2005
I just sweated my dress off!
Holy mother of God, I don't think I've ever danced so hard-and I'm one crazy-dancing kinda woman.
Just got back from the WOW ecstatic dance concert. My body is still humming. People sure are cool when they don't care if they're cool. SO many fantastic dancers shaking they wild boogie thangs...
By the way, all you wise and wonderful Seattle women should check the WOW festival out. It's going on this weekend and there's a lot of great art(including three paintings by yours truly!) up and lovely goings ons going on.
Virginia and I steamed up the center stage... It started out innocently enough, sort of an impromptu floor bodywork/dance/swaying to the beat of the drums and rattles, the tempo rose and so did we sweeping each other into a wild, lunging, pulse-thundering duet... We worshipped each other, grinning and laughing like maenads, spinning , whirling, coming together, sweeping apart. Faster and faster til we were vibrating all over with the crazysexymagic energy of it all. It was quite the finale for the evening-the final spin, I licked her face, she bit my leg-I screamed just as the music stopped.
Everyone clapped. It couldn't have been better timed if we were on cue.
My dress was so soaked I had to take it off and come home in my sweater and tights. It's frickin' frigid out tonight, did you notice?
So damn fun.
I think I pulled a hamstring.
Good thing I've a massage lined up tomorrow!
February 18, 2005
words to live by
When they find a dying serpent,
How will those who basely flee the conflict,
February 17, 2005
there's no place like home
The only thing missing is a cup o' tea, and me.
See that stack of books just sitting there, waiting for me? That's all the new graphic comics I got from the library. Strangers in Paradise, Top Ten, and even Bone, the ninth book of the three trilogies! I don't think Sam's seen that one yet. Boy is he gonna flip his lid...
Thatís why thereís no fabric on your asscheeks, yo.
I'm kinda sick and kinda broke and a bit mad. Perfect time to visit Mac.
Definately WAY better than an unexpected period.
And, really now, doesn't every girl need a bra for her twat?
diving into buildings
diving, diving deep.
Swiftly seduced, immersed, sucked.
You never know when or who or where, it just hits you like a fist in the guts and then you're down, down, down.
Just coasting along, careless as a sunny day lopped in half, cut through into raging pieces, trappings of a life, songs that don't mean shit anymore.
Down, spitting lies, splitting lives.
Nails shrieking, reeking holes, echoes on halls of vengeance, hills of wrath collide.
You have no idea.
It's dark and cold and empty and people are so lost.
Don't you want to know?
It's dark and cold and lonely, but you can fill the space, cram the chinks, build a life. A shiney new life with new friends, new songs... Pieces, trappings.
Build it strong, maybe it'll stick this time. Maybe it'll stay together.
Ignore that thing.
That dark thing.
"Does he know you won't have sex with him?"
BroadattheBat cracks me up. I hope I'm that good(and good-humored) when my kid's a teen on the dating scene.
February 16, 2005
life is for living, right?
"Work like you don't need the money.
Amen, Mr Twain.
February 15, 2005
oh honey, you have really fine elbows...
Not the usual compliment a girl might expect.
I guess it's not too crazy, considering my 'fine' elbow was buried rather deeply in her rhomboids at the moment.
Also, apropos of nothing, have you ever noticed how much easier to is to flirt on email? Something about being alone with my computer(at the moment) really brings out the shameless hussy in me!
The sweetest valentine
Happy Valentines day!
I got my paintings done(five in the last two weeks!) in the nick of time. Finished the last one at 1:30am for the party that evening...
It was glorious fun. The house was packed and we feasted, things got a little crazy and musical...
Thanks to all my sweet friends who came and brought yummy things, celebrated with me and mah girl, Rebecca, who was as able an assistant hostess as a girl could wish for.
It was a grand party and the afterparty was mellow and lovely, with R and Holly on the couch discussing the mysterious lines of love on their palms...
while I gave Sam a massage.
February 12, 2005
painting like madwoman
for my Valentines show.
It's gonna be a grand soiree, wine, song, feasting and more hot boobies than you can shake a stick at(no pun intended, of course). Maybe even a cock or two.
It's been a nice week. I have a friend visiting from Vancouver. She plays a mean Stray Cat Strut on the guitar. Plus lotsa painting, massage, sunshine, painting, hangin' with my boy, painting...
I just hope I can get these paintings finished in time. I've done four in the last two weeks and I'm working on two more.
Guess I better get my sweet ass in bed, so's I can get get up and hit the canvas in the morning.
Another shooting a few blocks from where I work.
Luckily most of this shit goes down when the bars close, so I'm already home safe. One of the bars just lost it's liquor license... The other one is, supposedly cleaning up it's act.
Stupid drunken mayhem.
February 06, 2005
at 3am is fun. I kinda like driving fast on empty streets.
Just got back from Mardi Gras in Fremont-all kindsa crazy fancy people partying out there tonight.
I'll see if any of the photos I took came out, tomorrow yo-I gotta hit the hay.
G'nite all y'all
February 02, 2005
the glory of love
Startled, she dropped to a crouch outside the tent.
It's a bit nervish, standing in a dark forest with only your jacket on, pale ass gleaming in the moonlight. She felt her heart beat faster, trying to ken the noise she'd just heard... Probably just a coon out nosing around the camp, looking for leftovers of their fire-roasted chili dinner.
Feeling foolish, and a bit chilly, half-naked in the early morning air, she found a good squatting spot, not too far(but not too close) to the tent and let her pee hiss and rivulet down into the thick pine needle mulch of the forest floor.
Rising into a stretch, she flung her arms nightskywards, reveling in the power and brilliance of the stars above as she felt the magnificence all around her. Bathing her, melting into her, healing.
So nice to be out of the city.
Crack! Gasping, suddenly rabbit-timid again, she pivoted and froze in a half-crouch, turning towards the sound.
A stag stood, enormous before her, regarding her with huge dark eyes.
For a long moment, they stood transfixed. She drank in the sight, His great dark antlers silhouetted against the dawning sky, the proud, powerful, primeval grace of him, the strange look in his eyes-gentle, intense, wise? almost amused, she thought, then alarm rattled throughout her as he sprang at her, his massive body passing inches from, and right over, her head.
Lying in the bracken, shuddering with shock, she laughed.
My God, he jumped right over me! Nobody is going to believe this.
She remembered the look in his eyes.
I don't even believe me.
Adrenaline still coursing through her, she slipped back into the tent, pulled off her jacket and shivering, slid under the big down coverlet with her man. She wrapped her long, thin body around him, so deeply grateful for the whole tender fit of him against her. His arms went around her automatically, even in his sleep, pulling her snug into his warm furry chest, her safe haven.
Too excited to be lulled by his sleepiness, she cast her leg over his and rolled on top. Pushing, undulating against him, gently, firmly, insistantly, persistantly, until he began to surface from his sound sleep and she felt the lovely, familiar length of him growing hard beneath her belly.
Pressing her face into his neck, kissing tenderly, then fiercely, nibbling to gnawing, she wrapped herself around him as he woke. Her urgency communicating wordlessly, taking him in, sweeping him into full arousal.
He growled, seizing her soft, slender fullness, the lithe span of her waist, with powerful hands. One swift, sure movement, rolling, grasping, thrilling, gasping-and she was pinned beneath him. Heady delight coursing through her arteries, she wrapped her legs around him, engulfed him plunging into her, filling her with the hot, wet, glory of love.
She never told him where it all came from.
"The trouble with being in the rat race is even if you win you are