We're home

I'm surprised to be back so soon. I think everyone was surprised at the discharge except the doctor who ordered it.

Findlay was pleasant, if anyone ever wants to visit there.

Steve's been hospitalized

In Findlay of all places. I guess I'm going on a road trip.

Wish me well.

Hay(na)ku for Steve

Just
stop dying
and come home.

Blame Canada

Is it something in the water?

A bunch of people who attended the same wedding Steve went to on Saturday (he went for a funeral and stayed for a wedding) have fallen ill as well.

Canadian cooties.

Or not

Steve might be admitted to a hospital in Canada. Fuck.

Better than a car crash, anyway

Steve calls to check in every night, until last night. I was worried and called a couple of times. Nothing. I was up until past 2, wandering around the house, trying not to worry.

For normal people, that would have been excessive worry. But when Steve's involved, there's no such thing. The man's a menace.

I nearly posted here about my worry, but I thought that would be borrowing trouble.

In any case, he called this morning, sick as the proverbial dog.

Sick and stuck in Canada. It could be a country song!

Alone again, naturally

Steve still hasn't come home. I begin to imagine him hiking down the road, his possessions tied in a bundle at the end of a stick.

I'm sleeping like a lamb. I don't even know if that's the correct phrase, I'm sticking with it. Baaaa.

Ichabod the cat now makes hideous snorting noises that I find disturbing. Such a lot of snort in such a small package. She goes to the vet on Wednesday.

Orson the cat now yowls all the time. I don't know when he goes to the vet.

Rumor has it that ripe tomatoes are available down the road. After work, guess where I'll be? You guessed it. Down the road.

The neighbors took down my fence to put a bobcat in their yard. Not a feline bobcat. The earthmoving equipment type of bobcat. I told them they couldn't come back through my yard. They've been avoiding me ever since.

Something keeps eating the Joe Pye Weed. Why would anything eat something called "Joe Pye Weed"? It sounds awful.

I posted the first half of the blank verse on a poetry forum and got no replies. I don't blame anyone. I wouldn't have replied either.

I posted the last snippet to a different forum and got plenty of replies. The replies pointed out that the meaning I was expecting readers to get and the meaning readers are actually going to get are so divergent that I'm wondering if I have lost my freaking mind.

I want to care, but I don't

I just want to sleep.

An embarrassing confession

Up until a couple of months ago, I thought pineapples grew on trees.

Like coconuts.

I have no excuse.

A rather unexpected phrase

Someone on a messageboard I frequent was talking about finding a baby 'possum on her nightstand, next to her bottle of moisturizer.

Someone else replied, asking if perhaps the little creature was "seeking to be a more moist possum."

I think that is officially the weirdest combination of words ever. Talk about your starting turn of phrase.

Be careful what you wish for

Someone did a google search on "Julie Carter nude."

Jesus, do you have a death wish or something?

You know how I said I would be weird?

I'm watching TV. That's not weird.

The fact that I watched the third round of the US Open (that's golf, for those of you in the dark) and am now watching "Patriot Games" (and intend to watch "Volcano") is the weird part.

I'm sure there are things I should be doing. I'm sure there are.

Damn you, Bev

A longtime friend of Steve's was dying of ovarian cancer. He made plans to go up next week, then got the call that she had died suddenly.

I know I can't exactly blame a person for dying. But damn you anyway, Bev. Damn you.

Steve left this morning, so I'll be all weird for a couple of days. Weirder. Yeah.

Website for poetry recordings

Poetry Live: Voices of Verse is looking for poets recording their own works for a podcast. Check it out before the owner gets all frustrated and bails.

I blame Harry

Harry is the reason I now am posting a picture of NIZZES. And not just any NIZZES, but NIZZES in hats.

Aha!

I've remembered.


There was a discussion on a board about journals wanting (paraphrased) "surprising turns of phrase or startling images."

I've never really thought very hard about such a request. It's a common one and, like many common things, it was just there.

But when I do think about it, I realize that I have a big problem with this request. For a turn of phrase to be surprising, or startling, it can't feel as if it rose directly from what came before. It has to be, at least to some degree, anomalous and unsupported. This demand seems to require, in fact, that a poem be disjointed, not built up word by word to an inevitable, whole, conclusion, but scattered, jumpy, an unpredictable yappy dog.

There are times when I'll read an image that feels so right, so perfect. But can an image be both a perfect fit and startling? I'm not sure that it can. There has to be a sense of wrongness in order to startle. Something where it shouldn't be.

The comparison I used in that earlier thread was to a jump scene in a movie, something that is thrown in just to make you lurch or squeal. But the cat coming out of the dark room is hollow and fake. Are these "jump images" or "jump phrases" any better?

Ever have your page sitting there staring at you

I opened a new post in Blogger because I wanted to talk about something. That was over an hour ago, and it's gone. Whatever it was is vanished.

I hate that.

I'm hoping that as I type this, the previous point will trickle back in. Can a point trickle? Whatever.

Nope, it's not happening.

Giving up on a book

It's not often that I'll bail on a book, but I'm giving up on China Mieville's Un Lun Dun. I simply can't take the grotesquerie. I stood it until people starting sticking pins into their heads as if they were pincushions. That simply makes me feel ill.

If I wanted to be made ill by reading, I'd go to WhiteHouse.gov.

The day from hell

So, it's a giant pile of suck in Casa Carter.

A flat tire. A dead battery. A fight at Wendy's. A canceled date with my niece to go to Dime-A-Dog night at the Clippers. Being called names in my own comment section.

Monday, Monday.

The yard keeps getting bigger

And it's not just my imagination.

Someone planted giant pine trees along the property line on three sides. We keep taking the pines out, or at least uplimbing them, so the yard keeps growing, and growing and growing.

(Speaking of growing, we have baby tomatoes! Woot!)

Considering how much I hate yards, it's weird that I want mine bigger. But considering that pine needles kill almost everything and work rather beautifully as mulch, well, that's your answer. More space without more work. It's perfect.

The question becomes...

... what in the hell am I going to do with a 1000-line poem?

Because that's what I'm building.

I know it's not something I should worry about, but as I near a quarter of the way done, I can't figure out if I should be assuming I'm going to edit it and work on it and generally fuss and rewrite, or if it's kinda, well, not worth anything.

Opinions welcome.

48 hour book challenge

I probably can't join in, but if you can check out The Second Annual 48 Hour Book Challenge, for reading books then blogging about the reads.

But, his name sounds kinda furrin

Apparently, it was Tom Tancredo during the New Hampshire Republican Debate saying, "Omigawd! We could become BILINGUAL!"

Hey, now, Tom (by the way, what kinda name is "Tancredo" anyhow? You some sorta furriner?) I rather wonder if you're getting all confused. Bilingual. Bisexual. It's all so similar.

The most remarkable comment during the Republican debate

One of the candidates said, with horror, that the US is getting close to being a bilingual country.

I'm having a really tough time figuring out why that's just so horribly horrible. My god. Bilingualism. Mwuh?

Oh, Lion! Lion!

My quest to adopt a lion has been successful.

Allow me to introduce Aloysius the Hidden.

Aloysius the Hidden

Mediocrity is never hidden, but the best things,
the worst, might lurk on the edges and wait.

I'm probably alone in this, but

I can't stand the idea of the movie "Knocked Up." It makes me want to "Throw Up." It makes me want to "Stand Up" and scream at the top of my lungs.

It's a visceral, neck-hair raising, teeth-grinding reaction. Yuck.

(Okay, I'm done.)

Thoughts on the blank verse challenge

I'm 20% along, which is farther than I was beginning to fear I would get.

I don't know if anyone is reading along, so I won't talk about the poem specifically. But last night, I did a recording of the whole thing and wow. It's such an improvement aloud. On the page, I think the very regular linebreaks (not my faaaaault) and the dense strophe breaks make for a tedious read. The recording was much more interesting, though I didn't do a very good job on the reading; it was rushed and a bit garbly, and my cat Orson kept yowling in to the microphone.

So, if anyone is actually reading along, I'd recommend reading it aloud, you gluttons for punishment.

Write a stick poet superhero poem

Michael of Stick Poet Super Hero wants to please those who come to his site looking for stick poet superhero poems:

For the next week, e-mail me your best effort at a Stick Poet Superhero poem. I promise I'll post them all on here ( the good, the bad, and the ugly) and then you can all vote on the best one. In the end, those who keep coming here in search of super hero poems will at last feel there Google searches are not have been in vain.

So write him some! Don't let the googlers leave his site empty, er, handed.

The insanity of the planity

Steve and I both hate grass, so we're gradually transforming our "lawn" into a series of flower beds. The amount of work involved is roughly a million times more than just mowing, but by god I hate mowing.

Insane? Of course! HaHA!

Snakeskin book fair

Please check out the Snakeskin Book Fair and support a poet's endeavors.

If you've never worked with George Simmers of Snakeskin, you're missing out on a treat. Submit! Buy! Read! Go! Go!