I'm confident that I broke my toe this morning - I stubbed it full force on a rocking chair. God, I could have at least injured myself doing something cool (cat juggling?) or noble (delousing orphans?). Guess I'll have to sit out a couple of poses in yoga for the next month. Rats.
Sean and I went to the Palo Alto Farmer's Market this morning, our first visit. It wasn't huge, but had some gorgeous produce and was just packed with children - almost everyone there had kids or appeared to be pregnant. There were a lot of dogs there, too.
Speaking of shopping, kind of, I've joined Wasabe.com, an online budgeting site that downloads your banking transactions and helps you figure out exactly where your money is going. I figure that if we're going to spend a whole month is Europe in 2010 it's going to take some organization... I'm going to assume that the exchange rate will still suck and try to put away more that we'll probably need. (I credit Get Rich Slowly with leading me to Wasabe.)
OK, I'm off to wash my in-laws' windows.
*George Carlin reference - what cats say in private, behind the couch, after hurting themselves.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Closer still
Rest assured, it's great to come home to a mailbox jammed with mail. Even though most of it is crap, there were two magazines, a Netflix movie I can't wait to see and a notice from Alaska Advantage stating that our respective student loan interest rates will be dropping by 3%.
Fuck, yeah.
But, it gets BETTER. My snail mail cache also included a very familiar SASE I'd included in one of my poetry submissions. Well, it's true that when you get such a letter, they've rejected you. And they did. BUT, there was a handwritten note at the bottom saying that one of my poems almost made it and to try again soon.
In the poetry world, this is very, very good. I've yet to actually publish, but this is my second "not now" note. High five.
Fuck, yeah.
But, it gets BETTER. My snail mail cache also included a very familiar SASE I'd included in one of my poetry submissions. Well, it's true that when you get such a letter, they've rejected you. And they did. BUT, there was a handwritten note at the bottom saying that one of my poems almost made it and to try again soon.
In the poetry world, this is very, very good. I've yet to actually publish, but this is my second "not now" note. High five.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Grrrrrrrrr
Yeah, I'm having one of those days - where everything seems like a personal affront. Coffee spilled on my shirt? It's a conspiracy. Missed a green light? The Department of Transportation obviously timed the traffic lights to thwart me and only me. Not the MILF in a huge suburban assault vehicle who made the light, despite not having a job to go to. Aarrrgggh.
I can't explain this mood, either. I got plenty of rest and exercise this weekend, ate great food (including fish tacos at the best taquería we've found yet) and we're crashing at my in-law's place, which means luxury and comfort.
Ah well, guess I should finish my coffee and suck it up. Life, that is.
I can't explain this mood, either. I got plenty of rest and exercise this weekend, ate great food (including fish tacos at the best taquería we've found yet) and we're crashing at my in-law's place, which means luxury and comfort.
Ah well, guess I should finish my coffee and suck it up. Life, that is.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Latest Revision... Modified first draft
I hesitate to call this a second draft. It's coming along.
Letter head
Should we call me a cat’s toy or
tired mouse? Wound
rewound, rusty key wrench
thumb flat on my
back back back. Click
grind. How we see
me… that’s not quite
it – a double-breasted bauble
a mailbox slit rammed with
letters, ink seeps
from my nose and collects
rushing across the continent
to stand unread. We
won’t extend one finger,
probe an envelope licking line
on a brief paper kick – not for old
time’s sake or even a bubble of gas,
a laugh. We, fog of loose’d pages
a sigh, leaves that never hit
the ground. We boats sink
paper melts from our mouth.
We are the page, slicing
each pad of fingers I own.
I the whole hand, cup
at the sea, open.
Letter head
Should we call me a cat’s toy or
tired mouse? Wound
rewound, rusty key wrench
thumb flat on my
back back back. Click
grind. How we see
me… that’s not quite
it – a double-breasted bauble
a mailbox slit rammed with
letters, ink seeps
from my nose and collects
rushing across the continent
to stand unread. We
won’t extend one finger,
probe an envelope licking line
on a brief paper kick – not for old
time’s sake or even a bubble of gas,
a laugh. We, fog of loose’d pages
a sigh, leaves that never hit
the ground. We boats sink
paper melts from our mouth.
We are the page, slicing
each pad of fingers I own.
I the whole hand, cup
at the sea, open.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Mosquito Coast
Last night Sean and I took Frieda to the ball field around the corner from our house and kicked a soccer ball around while muttly sniffed, defecated, etc. We weren't feeling terribly energetic, so when a couple of mosquitoes showed up, we decided to head back home rather than dealing with them. Really, though, there were maybe a dozen mosquitoes buzzing around the entire field and they weren't terribly aggressive. Back at home I trolled YouTube for footage of Alaskan swarms of mosquitoes and found this.
Yes, it's a very accurate representation of summer in the interior. All it's missing is an outhouse and my bare ass.
Camping, Alaska highway, 2005
Yes, it's a very accurate representation of summer in the interior. All it's missing is an outhouse and my bare ass.
Camping, Alaska highway, 2005
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Sacha Baron Cohen = Genius
Well, we already knew that, right?
Yes. But this latest Texarkana cage fighting stunt, perpetrated by his character Brüno, is beyond beautiful.
God bless us, every one.
Yes. But this latest Texarkana cage fighting stunt, perpetrated by his character Brüno, is beyond beautiful.
God bless us, every one.
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