March 30, 2005
another good man gone
Skin Feeling (Paul Hester)
I'm looking old, I'm feeling young
I like black and I like rain
I love the pigment in your skin
It's the truth my child
He left us some beautiful love songs, including one of my very favorites: 'Better be home soon'. I'm gonna listen to it when I get home tonight and dedicate my tonglen to him and his poor fatherless daughters.
there, that's better.
It's not really tonglen without the sooty smoke of suffering...
mmmm... egg salad sandwiches for lunch today!
March 28, 2005
'Dark Desert' By Mollie Kellogg, a true artist and beautiful friend of mine. Check out more of her delicious, inspired work on her website.
Years ago, we traded-she created a huge, awesome oil painting of me nursing Sam as a young mama. It stunned me when she brought it over and uncovered it. To see myself, so gloriously rendered, still awes me.
I sculpted a portrait of her and her kids. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have a picture of the finished work, and this one of the completed greenware is kinda blurry, but you get the general idea of the piece.
March 27, 2005
I gave 12 massages in three days this week! A dozen people, laid out on my table to get their cares and aches rubbed outta them... Phew, I'm a bit beat.
But not too bad, fortunately, as I have a date tonight!
In about half an hour actually. Yipes, I'd better go go go now.
March 22, 2005
Every archer needs a good quiver, so Sam and I had a quiver-making today.
Most of the ingredients I had already, in my scrap basket:
So, although our quest took us hours and hours of rambling through the stormblown Wedgewood wilderness, and Sam gallantly fought off ferocious garbage cans and we came home with many trophies of valor, we really only needed a water bottle and tape from Safeway(two blocks away) to complete our list.
A little cutting, wrapping and stitching and my brave archer is now equipped with THE COOLEST QUIVER IN THE WORLD!
This is my favorite picture.
Ouch, bad Zan, bad.
March 21, 2005
I'm working on this illustration for my teacher. In chi gong class he's been teaching us tonglen meditation. In this meditation form, you breathe in the suffering of the world(or of yourself or another particular human), like a sooty blackness of pain, anger, hurt, whatever the suffering might be...
And when you breathe out you transform it into brilliant light, like a thousand pure, sparkling crystals.
Hmmm... In the light of my last post, tonglen isn't a bad idea, huh?
it's a crime to shoot a little old lady, isn't it?
Too bad, 'cause I got one who really needs some KEELING!
The nasty ol' bat across the street threatened my mama last night, for parking close to her driveway, an' she's all yelling, saying we should keep off 'her' side of the street.
Poor Sam is terrified. He hides when she knocks on the door.
Damn senile ol' thing. I know it must suck being her, but must she terrorize the neighborhood in protest?
hither greenen ben clydeblumenocht!
or something like that. And Willow's wand blasts blue lightening, misfires and mismorphs Fin Razell once more, this time into a goat.
It's so fun introducing Sam to some of my favorite movies. We watched Willow last night. He loved it, especially the fracksome brownies, the wagonrattling chase scene and the part in the ritual/fight where the brazier gets struck by wandlightning and comes alive, chasing Willow about until he flips it over like a turtle and scoots it out the window.
Oh, and when Mad Mardigan kills General Kale, Sam realised an important movie truth-the more BADASS a charactor is, the more killing it takes to really keell him! I mean, man that guy gets stabbed through his craw like a zillion times!
Kale's not quite as crazy badass as the Uruk-Hai captain(Ugluk, in the book-Two Towers, not Willow-of course) yo.
We just met Treebeard(in the book), he's a really fun charactor to read with all his hoom hums and Entish maledictions. I musta done OK, since Sam was pretty entranced.
Of course there was singing and he really digs that.
Last night he asked me to sing him the Ballad of Earendil again.
I can't wait to show him the Ents attack on Isengard in the movie-they did that so well. I love that scene. It's such a pagans dream come true.
There are many ways to get to Loverzan. It's not that hard. In fact it's kind of surprising that so few actually find the realm. I knew someone once who SNEEZED themselves in! Granted it wasn't one of those puny, cute, ladylike sneezes-no, it was the kind that makes you wipe your snot-laden face on your shirt, blink 'til your eyeballs plop! back into their sockets and then search for bits of your brain on the far walls. But anyhoo, there's plenty of ways to get there. I mean, shoot, you could just email the Queen for instance.
I suppose it's not THAT strange however, considering the dreadsome guardians and fearful obstacles...
Oftimes you'll find yourself wandering towards Loverzan, without even knowing you wanted to. You'll wake as if from a dream-stumbling through the deep, pungent forest of forgotten, half-rotten obfuscations, grasping at roots of towering self-righteous assertions, plucking from your hair the sticky webs and strands, gooey intrigues and tangled snailtrails of self-deception-to find yourself blinking in the warm sunshine, redripe tomatoes clustering, glorious, on lush dark green vines, flowers everywhere and the Queen, knees plunked down in the soft earth, dirty jeans, grimey nails, welcoming grin, hori-hori and all.
Sometimes it takes months to get there, years even. Bold going at first, slaying dragons(though that is highly over-rated as a way to a ladies heart and indeed her majesty would be wroth with you if she knew-being awfully fond of dragons herself)and scaling egregious mountains, crossing nasty, stinking quagmires, seeking the omniscience of wise, garrulous old hermits(unfortunately the wisdom garnered thus is mostly like unto a long overdue dental examination-seldom what one wants to hear and usually points directly to what one most wishes to avoid knowing).
Eventually, the path becomes so laborious, so heavily strewn with sharp rocks of denial, alluring sidetrails and persnickety, demanding old witches, not to mention that little voice in your head growing louder and LOUDER, until you just know that it's your whole life at stake and wouldn't it be best if you called it quits?
So you do.
That's all right, some people never even know the place exists. Hey, there's all kinds of lives to live and all kinds of people and places to fill them with. Loverzan's not for everyone.
It's a wild, challenging place. Not for the mistrusting, nor the faint of heart, for it has many miens... not all gladsome misty, mountain-cradled sanctuaries, verdant meadows, radiant glades, hidden hotspring hollows where satyrs play upon their lusty lyres, fondly fondling nubile nymphs in the heart of summer.
Even if you want to go so very deeply, with all the passion of your whole soul and bodymindheart, you may not make it past the sparkling emerald gates, into the palace.
You have to leave something behind, not just your credit cards and your empty excuses. Something that you really really really think is just so valuable, so grand, so HUGE! Something you think you could never live without.
If you don't, you'll find yourself boobyslapped back to Whenceyoucame faster than you can say 'assmitten'.
Them goddess guardians don't mess around.
March 19, 2005
reminder to self:
bill client=get paid.
hey little girl is your daddy home...
Rebecca introduced me to one of her favorite bands this week... Twice.
Wednesday night Josh n' Yoni joined us, we rang in St Patricks day-and screamed and yelled and jumped and danced so hard I peed my pants! It was hella fun. I knew Rebecca was a wild one, but I had no idea Josh could cut the rug so tough-I could hardly see his legs they were moving so fast!
We needed more Clumsy Loving, so we saw them again tonight.
They rock. They're sweet and funny and play some mean bluegrass... And their covers crack me up-Like a blister in the sun... Played bluegrass, is something else to dance to-near the end they tossed out pop can shakers, Andrea got up on the bar with her fiddle(man can that girl dancedancedancewhilesheplays!
Bedtime for moi.
March 18, 2005
I drew this on a slow day at work. Jay was researching woodworking for me while I sketched and some local hoods were threatening to off each other in the street over heroine money.
March 15, 2005
the tower of Sauron
Shortly after it's construction, it was decimated by the devastatingly(oh, OK, so it was after a few tries-hey, whaddaya want, it's a wimpy bow!) accurate and powerful archery of Sam BenZamGee.
Sorry, no photos available of the giant smoking crater of destruction when Sauron blew up in his tower.
look out rat creatures!
We finished reading The Fellowship of the Ring and so I rented the Extended version of the movie.
Sam was awed. The Uruk-hai chieftan really blew him away, not to mention the swordfighting and archery and all. Now he's a regular little Legolas... I made him a bow and arrow out of some red branches I had left over from the Valentines party and he's been shooting Nate ever since.
Nate's been staying with us this week. He's a good friend and has been a great help in the garden and a good sport with Sam-he dies really well when hit by many arrows!
My hori-hori was a big hit too, Sam went goggle-eyed when he saw it-it's got a SHEATH! It was instantly transformed into Ratcrist, the ratcreature-biter and he's been helping me kill sod with a vengeance ever since!
Victory is ours!
It's going to be quite a garden. I can't wait to plant... There's little baby veggies for sale at PCC already.
hurray for tools!
I've never used one of these before, but I've always wanted one. Look out new bed! Those posts are just quivering to be carved...
And speaking of things I've always wanted, this here is my new hori-hori. A gardeners wet dream. That dirty sod out there better get it's mitts up!
March 13, 2005
an unexpected feast.
Last night, we were in the midst of cooking up a fine meal of grilled pork chops, collards, beans and rice, when my mama called and mysteriously announced she was going to bring us a ton of food...
It was an understatement. A metric buttload would be more like it, or perhaps even a shit-ton(Oh Terra, how I miss you).
We are now overflowing with tamales, fajitas, salmon tacos, and burritos. Not to mention chips, salsa, guacamole and daffodil bouquets!
She'd just gotten back from a benefit for NOAH and they loaded her up with yummy leftovers on a truly grand scale.
So I declared it Nationalholymetricbuttloadofmexicanfood Day, and let Sam stay up late and watch 'The search for signs of intelligent life in the universe' with us.
Lily Tomlin. An amazing woman.
My favorite line:
"I refuse to be intimidated by reality."
Now, how about another burrito?
March 12, 2005
love my walk to work
Ravenna park is so beautiful and big. It's always an adventure.
You can go rambling over gnarlyknobbly roots, scarper up fernfluffed hillside trails...
You might look for trolls under bridges, though you're more likely to find graffiti.
You may however, find cute boys making music by your favorite meditation rock.
There's all kinds of amazing trees, mosses, molds, mushrooms... Not to mention bushes, bananaslugs and brilliant berries...
I get to meander through it four or five times a week on my way homewards and workwards. I always look forward to the stroll, whether I'm huffpuffing through in an ohshiteI'mnotevengonnahavetimetochangethesheets hurry, or basking in the greening glory. It seems as though there's always a new way to go, or a new sight to greet me.
On rainy days, I often see the foraging ladies with their blue rubber gloves and baskets harvesting watercress in the stream. I've thought about it myself... It looks so fresh, wet and green, but so far I've limited myself to munching on the dandelion leaves and nibbling the chickweed.
The dandelions are awesome this time of year, if you get 'em before they flower.
Almost nettle time... I can hardly wait.
I coulda sat here all day...
But unfortunately, I had to go to work.
Oh, the sweetness of spring!
March 10, 2005
oooh baby, yes! Please, more of those-cold, metal, ducklips?
I was gonna write an outrageously hilarious post about my impending box check at the doctors today, but how could I beat this?
Thank god for funny women. Now I can face the poking and probing and the ducklips with some humor up my sleeve.
Maybe I'll even be able to laugh when the assistant sweetly jabs the needle just shy of my GIGANTIC purple vein, over and over again.
March 06, 2005
behold the Bed Royale
Hard to get a good pic of the whole thing... My bedroom is so small I'd have to climb out the window to get far enough away!
My able bedbuilding crew. Should be plus my mama, but someone had to take the picture.
Snuggletime. A job well done.
Love my new birthday bed! It was such a nice day, too. I think I should have a Birthday Bedbuilding Barbecue more often-er, but then I'd have too many beds!
We made good use(for the first time) of the rockin' gas grill Rebecca's ex roomate left here. Mmmmm.... Yummy kebab action.
Holly made me a strawberry heart/vagina birthday 'cake' with berries and chocolate kisses. It was sweet, even if the kiss tags didn't burn so well.
I was gifted wonderful things-besides the amazing bed!-mom gave me a 4 million year old fossil dolphin vertebrae... It is a humbling thing to hold the bone of an ancient sentient being in your hand. I will cherish it.
I got to read my latest poems to a very appreciative audience and Josh unexpectedly, spontaneously, gave me perhaps the best present of all:
He turned 'Booty Rising' into a song. It thrilled me no end when he got to the title line-I wondered how he was going to be able to make that fly... He was singing low and sweet and a bit fierce and then, on the last two words, totally dropped his voice to the deep, savage, lustperfect octave.
March 05, 2005
...come hell or high water:
it's bed-building time!
Whoops, I just took a look at the time. Make that today, much, much later today...
Man I gotta go to bed... For the last time without grandeur.
Before my posts get even sillier.
silly body poem
But, the next flea that bites
I have no idea where this ramble came from... Maybe talking about high teen suicide rates in class this morning, then listening to the streetkids tonight... It started out a little, fairly average post and then just meandered, sparked and splattered.
Tatoos make good massage therapist entertainment.
I was tired, bored, sore, disgruntled and somewhat nauseous(shouldn't gone for the Serene's tempura, but she dangled it in front o' me and all I had brought was humus, chips n' a baby bok choy).
So, anyway, I was in a sorta shitty end of an endless week mood-don't tell my clients 'k?-and had two massages to go before my friday night shift was over.
So this towelclad dude, my next client, swaggers in. Well, maybe it wasn't really a swagger, I guess it's hard for a massive longshoreman to move without a bit of a lurch in his gait.
In my bitchyass mood, I was thinking: Oh great, how'm I gonna dig into that gigantic lump of neckless muscle without killing myself?(really folks, I LOVE massage, I do! it was just the MOOD talking).
He was actually quite entertaining. For one thing, he was covered in tatoos. It's kinda fun petrissaging when it makes the naked angelhottie wiggle, or doing some long, smooth friction down Jesus, effleuraging dragons...
And he got me talking about art... Rambling, in fact. It's funny how sometimes you find yourself saying the most incredibly meaningful things to a complete stranger out of the blue.
Massage sort of sets the scene for intimate sharing yo.
Well, I was in a slightly better frame of mind when I dashed down the stairs for to catch the 71. It leaves at 9:06. I get off at 9:00 and if my last client doesn't take too long getting they sleepyfreshlymassaged butts off the table, I can just whip in, change the sheets, grab my gear, return my oil bottle to it's handy-dandy shelf and hightail it out the door.
I pulled it off tonight, 'cept that I ended up squirming at the bustop 'cause I didn't hit the bathroom on my flight down and I left my backpack in the hall, damn it.
It's always an mind-bending experience hanging alongside the bratpack of homeless teens strewn about the bustops. Tonight was no exception.
dude one: '-she's not your girlfriend anymore, dude.'
dude two: '-so? I'll get that kindo booty whenever I can, if I just had some goddamn place to go!'
dudette: 'You could go to the movies.'
dude two(indignantly): 'That costs money!'
dude one: 'There's that mattress... Out behind...'
dudette: 'Dude! That things been there forever... It's GROSS!'
Man, oh man. What is the world coming to if boys won't even cough up $8 for booty?
But seriously, what kinda hell must a girl be running from to put her so low that she'd give her body, her softness, her tender feelings, to such a feckless kid?
I hear shit there every week that just makes me so angry.
People fuck each other up as if it's their godgiven right. That's life, I guess, life sucks. That's just how it is...
People, we choose how to live. Every goddamn moment of every day we can make a new choice, decide not to be an asshole, not to add to the fucked upness of the world.
We are not helpless!
Don't blind yourself.
Don't play it like a helpless child.
Be strong. Find your core, your integrity, your balance.
Play it one day, one moment at a time if you have to.
Grow it, strengthen the positive, release the negative...
Do as much good in the world as you can.
I know life ain't easy. But it's not impossible! sometimes it hurts so bad you want to claw your heart right out of your chest, but it will pass. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen you will get better, and be bigger and stronger and more capable, wiser even...
Just hang in there.
Keep planting seeds.
It's worth every minute.
March 04, 2005
a tale of two pillows
A new bed needs new pillows.
My new bed has four pillowslips and only two pillows... Having already spent a metric buttload(even with my mama and sis pitching in for my b-day)on the bed, I figured I'd make a little thrifty magic:
Snip, snip, snip...
one pillow becomes two!
Sam's best Granma Ben look.
Voila! Exploding pillows. Just what I needed.
March 02, 2005
Requiem for Hunter
'In a statement, Thompson's widow and his son said: "Though we will miss him bitterly, we understand his decision. Let the world know that Dr. Hunter S. Thompson died with his glass full, a fearless man, a warrior." '
What a beautiful thing to say. A fitting inscription for the tomb, except that there won't be one, as his burial wishes were to have his ashes shot out of a cannon.
The author of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream (1971) and a ferocious journalist, Thompson held nothing back.
'He once suggested former President Bush should be brutally stomped by voters. He called former Vice President Hubert Humphrey "a hopelessly dishonest old hack," compared the late Sen. Edmund Muskie of Maine to a "vicious 200-pound river rat" and frequently dismissed former President Clinton as a white-trash hillbilly. '
'A critic of Thompson's work once said he feared the author might someday lose his edge and "lapse into good taste." Judging by many of his comments, he rarely did. '
Good taste or no, as a former Mainer, I can attest that Muskie did indeed bear some resemblence to a muskrat and I have a lot of admiration for people who aren't afraid to say(and write about) what they think. It's a shame they usually end up dead before their time.
Quotes are from CVC
So here's to Hunter, may his ashes explode in posthumous glory, spreading his words far and wide.
March 01, 2005
my birthday bed is on it's way.
It's my 35th on monday, and I'm having a bedmaking party.
I've always wanted a four poster. Ever since I was a(terribly romantic)little girl in the north woods of Maine, reading Ivanhoe and Robin Hood and Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea-all those tales of desperate, valiant men and the gorgeous , heroic women who inspired them, thrilled them, desired them... I'm not sure what it is, but for some reason having tall dark cherrywood posts and pretty metal scrollwork surrounding my purple velvet sanctuary just seems like the creme de la creme...
So, I'm all aquiver, the purple velvet bedding arrived today and the lovely thing itself gets here on friday.
Ooooooooh.... I can hardly wait!
you remind me of the babe...
The babe with the power.
The power of Voodoo.
Sam and I just watched Labyrinth. Such a fabulous movie. I was so sad when Jim Henson died... I'd always dreamed of working with him someday on all those fabulous beasties.
Sam loved it. Especially the orange monkey dudes who throw their heads and body parts around, and the Escher stairway sequence.
God, I remember when I was a silly teenage girl(eons ago) and I thought Bowie was SOOOOO cool and sexy with his sparkly leather outfits and wicked kinky smile.
I'm still a sucker for a well-cocked eyebrow.
ooooooooh books, sweet sweet books...
I begged the prolific, brilliant and insightful Mac of Pesky Apostrophe to hook me up with her plentiful readership's advice on what books to read to the Samboy next.
She gave me a little mention on her latest book review and boy, did it hook me up with some great suggestions.
Thanks all! And thanks soooo much, Mrs Peskyfish...