After J spent most of his morning hacking at overgrown shrubbery with a shovel, rake, and clippers, I pointed out that there is an outlet not 10 feet from the worksite. Now he is going at it with a chainsaw.
Helpful!
Later, I will drive him to the emergency room when he accidentally takes off a finger.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Stuff You Missed Out On
Crud!
Just stumbled upon the fact that poet Mark Doty lived in Montrose for years, he even went to Favorite Poem parties at Brazos, and it looks like he's now living/teaching elsewhere.
Love this poem about the Kroger parking lot:
Theory of Beauty (Grackles on Montrose)
by Mark Doty
Eight o’clock, warm Houston night, and in the parking lot
the grackles hold forth royally, in thick trees on the lip of traffic,
and either they’re oblivious to the street-rush
and come-and-go at the Kroger or else they actually like it,
our hurry a useful counter to their tintinnabulation.
Now one’s doing the Really Creaky Hinge, making it last a long time;
now Drop the Tin Can, glissando, then Limping Siren,
then it’s back to the Hinge done with a caesura
midstream, so it becomes a Recalcitrant Double Entry.
What are they up to, these late, randy singers,
who seem to shiver the whole tree in pleasure
when somebody gets off a really fierce line,
aerial gang of pirate deejays remixing their sonics
above the median strip all up and down the block
from here to the Taco Cabana? They sample Bad Brakes,
they do Tea Kettle in Hell, Slidewhistle into Car Alarm,
Firecracker with a Bright Report, and every feathered body—
how many of them are there, obscured by dense green?
seems to cackle over that one, incendiary rippling, pure
delight, imperious and impure singing: the city’s traffic in tongues,
polyglot cantata, awry, expansive, new.
Just stumbled upon the fact that poet Mark Doty lived in Montrose for years, he even went to Favorite Poem parties at Brazos, and it looks like he's now living/teaching elsewhere.
Love this poem about the Kroger parking lot:
Theory of Beauty (Grackles on Montrose)
by Mark Doty
Eight o’clock, warm Houston night, and in the parking lot
the grackles hold forth royally, in thick trees on the lip of traffic,
and either they’re oblivious to the street-rush
and come-and-go at the Kroger or else they actually like it,
our hurry a useful counter to their tintinnabulation.
Now one’s doing the Really Creaky Hinge, making it last a long time;
now Drop the Tin Can, glissando, then Limping Siren,
then it’s back to the Hinge done with a caesura
midstream, so it becomes a Recalcitrant Double Entry.
What are they up to, these late, randy singers,
who seem to shiver the whole tree in pleasure
when somebody gets off a really fierce line,
aerial gang of pirate deejays remixing their sonics
above the median strip all up and down the block
from here to the Taco Cabana? They sample Bad Brakes,
they do Tea Kettle in Hell, Slidewhistle into Car Alarm,
Firecracker with a Bright Report, and every feathered body—
how many of them are there, obscured by dense green?
seems to cackle over that one, incendiary rippling, pure
delight, imperious and impure singing: the city’s traffic in tongues,
polyglot cantata, awry, expansive, new.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Half-fiction, indeed
"It is important to note that this blog and the story depicted above is to be used as an illustrative example of what some individuals have achieved with this/these products. This website, and any page on the website, is based loosely off a true story, but has been modified in multiple ways including, but not limited to: the story, the photos, and the comments. Thus, this blog, and any page on this website, are not to be taken literally or as a non-fiction story."
I am not going to link to the website, because, as you have just read in the fine print, it is an ad. A weight loss ad, for that acai berry stuff. (Pronounced, by me: "ackie" berry. J says it is "ah-kai" berry.) Said website is called "Sarah Cooper's weight loss diary" and contains before and after pictures, a weight loss story, and 15 "comments" penned in the same distinctive writing style -- one is addressed to "Brenda." Ooops.
I get these twitter followers who are sometimes spam, sometimes real people, and sometimes -- well -- something in-between.
Interesting, right?
No, you say? Just spam?
Ok.
I am not going to link to the website, because, as you have just read in the fine print, it is an ad. A weight loss ad, for that acai berry stuff. (Pronounced, by me: "ackie" berry. J says it is "ah-kai" berry.) Said website is called "Sarah Cooper's weight loss diary" and contains before and after pictures, a weight loss story, and 15 "comments" penned in the same distinctive writing style -- one is addressed to "Brenda." Ooops.
I get these twitter followers who are sometimes spam, sometimes real people, and sometimes -- well -- something in-between.
Interesting, right?
No, you say? Just spam?
Ok.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Reinventing the Internet
As has become embarrassingly clear over the past year, I'm not at all sure what to do with this space anymore. This is not an uncommon phenomena, in fact, my blogger mentors have all been through one or more mid-blog crisis: Alison slowed down, Ryan shut down and then reinvented his site.
Other things have happened, too, since 2003. Flickr happened. Facebook happened. All my friends moved away, and I stopped teaching. My life got a lot less interesting, or at least less blogable. (The ethics of blogging while teaching are debatable, too, and I don't care to debate it.)
Things got really private for awhile. Blogger deleted all my posts from 2003-2004, and I was crushed, and then I got over it. Tumblr happened and I couldn't get into it. LinkedIn happened, and that was good for my professional career. Facebook expanded to older (than me) generations, and suddenly Moms were friending me. The iPhone happened, and I was connected ALL THE TIME. Twitter happened and I was like NONONONONO and then, finally, ok.
Other people in my immediate circle are still successful at blogging. I enjoy Mindy's updates about her life and about her daughter, and I imagine what an amazing baby book it will make. Babies across the globe will one day have access to their early years in detail that is mind boggling to me.
For the most part, my family members either do not understand or are justifiably concerned about our (our = the world's) growing internet presence. I share their hesitation and try to stay private/censored/professional as much as I can, while staying true to myself and enjoying the ease of connectivity and a public outlet for creative ideas.
I am not the first one to question the merits of staying connected to people I would otherwise grow apart from, and I have on many an occasion cut contacts ruthlessly and without remorse. Would I go out of my way to say hello to you in a crowded space? No? Then I wish you well, and you do not need to have access to my personal profile. Do we have any past interactions that make regular updates feel "a little weird"? Goodbye, friend, and go in peace.
The point is -- and after all these characters, I do have a point -- you see, Twitter would have cut me off LONG AGO because, like Mr. Moore my 9th grade English teacher, it is all: Get to the beach! -- the point is that ponycrusher will stay, until blogger decides to cruelly and unusually erase everything I have written over the last five years. The point is, I'm stretched in more internet directions, and that is ok. It is good to be concise. It is good to let the picture speak for itself. And it is good to, every now and then, post the diatribe that ties several ideas together. It is good to document. And good to know when to let it all go.
Other things have happened, too, since 2003. Flickr happened. Facebook happened. All my friends moved away, and I stopped teaching. My life got a lot less interesting, or at least less blogable. (The ethics of blogging while teaching are debatable, too, and I don't care to debate it.)
Things got really private for awhile. Blogger deleted all my posts from 2003-2004, and I was crushed, and then I got over it. Tumblr happened and I couldn't get into it. LinkedIn happened, and that was good for my professional career. Facebook expanded to older (than me) generations, and suddenly Moms were friending me. The iPhone happened, and I was connected ALL THE TIME. Twitter happened and I was like NONONONONO and then, finally, ok.
Other people in my immediate circle are still successful at blogging. I enjoy Mindy's updates about her life and about her daughter, and I imagine what an amazing baby book it will make. Babies across the globe will one day have access to their early years in detail that is mind boggling to me.
For the most part, my family members either do not understand or are justifiably concerned about our (our = the world's) growing internet presence. I share their hesitation and try to stay private/censored/professional as much as I can, while staying true to myself and enjoying the ease of connectivity and a public outlet for creative ideas.
I am not the first one to question the merits of staying connected to people I would otherwise grow apart from, and I have on many an occasion cut contacts ruthlessly and without remorse. Would I go out of my way to say hello to you in a crowded space? No? Then I wish you well, and you do not need to have access to my personal profile. Do we have any past interactions that make regular updates feel "a little weird"? Goodbye, friend, and go in peace.
The point is -- and after all these characters, I do have a point -- you see, Twitter would have cut me off LONG AGO because, like Mr. Moore my 9th grade English teacher, it is all: Get to the beach! -- the point is that ponycrusher will stay, until blogger decides to cruelly and unusually erase everything I have written over the last five years. The point is, I'm stretched in more internet directions, and that is ok. It is good to be concise. It is good to let the picture speak for itself. And it is good to, every now and then, post the diatribe that ties several ideas together. It is good to document. And good to know when to let it all go.
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