It's like lemonade- Sweet, Tangy, and Refreshing!

September 29, 2005

I Think I Should Be Flattered...

My half of my creative writing class wants me to read books on tape.

Seriously. After reading my poem during class, the first comment said was, “I just wanted to say that you have the best reading voice I’ve ever heard.” Coming from Ralph, that’s one helluva compliment. It was echoed by the rest of the class amidst my giggles and throughout the rest of the critique. Then again, I got told that it was very intense, too.

Maybe I do have potential after all…

Me: How do I provide a hint? Does it need a bloody knife?
Class: NO!!!
Me: Okay…

Er, maybe not.

I’m posting it over on Fictionpress. I figure what the heck- I turned it in, maybe I can get some other responses on it. Perfect for Halloween, check it out here. I think I’ll be posting my other poems from the class over there shortly. If I don’t wreck it in revision, I might even send it to a few places.

September 18, 2005

Blog of my Big Little Brother

My brother, (Tarrith here, Adam there) has a MSN blog, and some pictures up from his intro courses at KC. It's wild. I really, really hope he keeps it up, if for no other reason than to keep us all posted. I really miss coming home from class to have him bang on my door shortly after, bouncing, convincing me to play a game of Perfect Dark. All the energy and excitement- and hopefulness- is on his blog.

You should totally check it out here.

September 11, 2005

A Red Square is an Angry Shape

You know, after a post like that in the morning, the day would only have been made worse by another national disaster. (Natural, Terrorist, Supernatural, Political- you take your pick.) I guess it's all right to be shaken.

A healthy dose of fear is a good thing. It keeps you objective. The way we all couldn't be if we watched Fox News- or rather, any news at the time of post 9/11. It was unnerving- I remember sort of shaking my head at a customer writing a check. When I said I couldn't believe it was September 11th already, she commented on the weather.

Maybe the anti-media documentary on the Independent Film Channel on the TV over my shoulder is getting to me. I wouldn't be too terribly suprised.

But today was a fairly normal day for me.

Went to the art fair in Clayton before I had to go in for work. I mean, a little church-hooky never killed anyone, right? (Besides Sampson- well, I won't get into old testament here. It'd just come down around my ears. *rimshot*) Picked up Gram, drove out and wandered to the Breadco before the booths opened. We weren't there for long- but what we saw... wow.

I want to learn how to create like that.

Maybe that's one of the reasons I support Tarrith so much- I know he has the skill to do it. I was picking up postcards left and right for artists that impressed me beyond words. There was a chain-mail artist, countless jewlers that I'd never be able to afford on my paycheck, oil paintings of water that you just wanted to touch and watch ripple. A gorgeous oil canvas of a red rose dripping with fresh dew. A timeless photo bearing a quote from JRR Tolkien. An incredible lover's embrace of pastels on asphalt that is washed clean- gone so that the lines are visible for Sunday afternoon traffic. Impossibly large cherries which would win at any county fair- at least at first glance.

My favorite illustrative art peice was by Gary S. Bowling. Part of his "Garyoglyphics" series, it comes with a written story that I don't dare summarize here, mainly because I don't want to miss anything. (Not to mention copywright infringement.) Aptly titled "So it is Written", the punchline to the story is something that most New Yorkers would appreciate. Or buisnessmen. You can can find his website here. Maybe if you ask nicely he'll share the story.

Because I refuse to go back to the previous topic of doom and gloom, I think I'll leave you with some three helpful tips of looking at an art peice, when you're on the cusp of buying at next year's art fair.

(Because, of course, one art class makes me the only expert in the entire world.)

1) If it is abstract, can you feel what the artist wants to evoke? Are you swayed into anger or serenity? Desire through perversion? Or is it a case of "Ooooo... pretty colors would match my room". The latter will most likely leave you with an empty pocketbook, and perhaps a few cutting words from your signifcant other. But you'll have a pretty picture!

2) Ask the vital questions "Inquire", "Desire", and "Require".

"Inquire" - What magical spell has the artist placed on you in order for you to pick up his four-hundred dollar golden-dipped-pewter cufflinks. What are they made of- are they worth the price? And for that matter- do you care?

"Desire" - Well- DO you care? Take price out of the equation for the moment. What would you give to own it. Your first born? Your last two paychecks? Five? Ten? Will it give you unlimited fulfillment day after day to look at that incredible painting of a woman as a peacock feather on your wall daily?

"Require" - Can you afford to eat if you buy this painting? Will you lose your boyfriend over this? Girlfriend? Does your wardrobe really need a three-hundred dollar sweater that doesn't go with anything at all? Practicality is key. If it doesn't have a place in your home, then don't take it home. If it doesn't have a place in your life... you get the picture.

3) So you're sure it's not a rip-off, and you went ahead and bought it- did you? DROP IT OFF IN YOUR CAR!!! Two ladies were clutching brown bags like they were holding the tomes of the ancient ones, having probably just dropped somewhere between seven hundred and one thousand dollars between the two of them. Don't let paranoia happen to YOU!

Until next time,

Doom, Gloom, and Desperation

I didn't even realize when I woke that it was the eleventh of September. I just remember catching up on everyone's blogs after a week (or- in some cases- month-long absence) due to a tight work schedule. Leaving a comment on Bob's Myspace blog reminded me.

September 11th. I don't even know if I want to go to work. On Smackie, Nate had said that it would be the perfect time for terrorists to attack- I wonder how many other New Yorkers are feeling the apprehension about today that I'm feeling- only much... much worse. So many of them saw the twin towers collapse.

How many will wake this morning and wonder:

"Will it happen again?"

It's an overpowering feeling of fear that can blanket a person's senses, I suppose. Fear, anger, frustration, depression- but mostly fear at this point. After Bush got us wrapped up in the war, we forgot about fear- it was all "over there". It wasn't the territorial protection of our ground soil; it wasn't the American Revolution, or the war of 1812.

No, it's trying to fight a geurilla operation. Playing whack-a-mole with Osama Bin Laden. And all the other good stuff that goes along with it.


Drac's talking about joining up with the Army National Gaurd. I don't know that it would be a bad thing. And I totally support whatever decision he makes- I don't have a child to worry about asking why papa's missing if he gets sent off- really sent off. I do know that I will miss him terribly when he's gone, if he does join.

I think it's time for me to shake off this nervous feeling- normal people aren't still feeling the tremors left over from the tragedy in 2001.

Are they?

September 01, 2005


When I was a little kid, I couldn't seem to grasp the concept of severe natural disasters.

I didn't see a bunch of people dying when I saw floods and tornadoes. When the Missisippi River flooded back in '93, my family went to help sandbag down by River Des Peres. I got to see the relief effort- but I didn't get to see people's objects swept away. Being young, I remarked, "I think I know why God makes floods and earthquakes and stuff. It's his way of forcing everyone to care about each other."

Stupid, foolish, naiive child. Can I believe now that Hurricaine Katrina was the work of God with some plan for the people in Georgia or Missisippi? "Bourbon Street"'s about to be renamed "Bourbon and Water". Can I believe now that the recent Tsunami in December of last year was a miracle? I'm... shocked.

Fearful. Worried for people I've never met or seen. Worried for those who haven't been saved from their houses yet. Fearful for those who were seperated from their families. Shocked by the sheer magnitude of reconstruction needed. The death toll that might never be completed. The looting. The top being peeled from the superdome like an anchovy lid.

How could I have thought that something as terrible as this could be a blessing?

Prove me wrong. Go to and be one of those pulling togeather to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

It's not sandbagging- but at least it's something.