Dither

Skeery Skeery Overboard?

2010-05-03T12:32:00.003-04:00

yesterday, friends and i were preparing to go on a wild foods hunt- i have been looking up the uses of wild and edible herbals- when ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

(imagine hearing the music of the ice cream truck and kids at the park while watching officers running around your neighborhood with guns- an eerie juxtaposition)

now, until this morning, i had no idea why there were policemen racking shotguns with handguns in hand, running round on foot telling everyone to get inside their houses...

josh, next door, was outside washing out paintbrushes at this time, when a woman and a young girl with a baby asked to cut through his yard... he saw the police running with guns out and began to run in the house when the officer called him to come to him and then told him to get in the house... soon, josh saw the woman being led away in handcuffs...

the neighbor across the street came out on her porch, saw an officer in the front yard, asked what was going on, and then the officer removed a shotgun from his car and racked it- she ran back in and then five minutes later took off in her car like she was on fire...

a kid and his father were collecting recyclables in the alley when i yelled to them to be careful because at least eight police officers were running with guns in hand- which is a dangerous scenario. he said he knew, they had already yelled at him, but thanks...

needless to say, everyone panicked, but mostly about all the armed men running with firearms in hand, and nobody understood what was happening... this was not being broadcast anywhere, information was unavailable...

then today- i see the news sentinel... it would appear that a man stabbed another man on ault street- during a domestic- and then was silly enough to call 911. the stabbing victim died.

and while i believe that the best intentions are meant by the kpd, i also think that they are subject to the panic and pack mentality that all human beings are subject to... and while i believe that a panicked man with a knife is dangerous, i believe that six or eight panicked men running with loaded shotguns and handguns is more dangerous...

also- if a single officer would have/could have stopped to speak with one of us- then josh would have known that the woman in his yard was somehow involved, we would have understood who we should be watching for, we could have protected ourselves...

but as it stood, we all stood in awe of the danger of running guns, fear of yells to "get in the house" and felt more threatened than protected... and statistically, you are more likely to be murdered by someone you know than a stranger, (e.g. the murder on ault of folks that knew each other), and that citizens need to feel empowered in order to want to help authorities rather than bullied- it just appeared that be poorly handled...

and maybe it's the fact that this is just east knoxville? (i, for one, love love love this neighborhood and have never been in danger) or maybe the officers were fearful of the knife? maybe they had seen a bystander threatened? i don't know. i just know that things could have been handled more smoothly and without scaring the bejeebus out of the neighborhood... and our kids.

it reminds me of the patriot act- a police state to protect us. but, i would rather feel free than protected. what happened at your house?

Solve This. Please?

2010-04-08T20:43:00.002-04:00

Now. I think of gardening. I am even obsessively checking my seedlings and digging and weeding. It's my current religion. It's (dare I say it?) mindless. Mindless affection poured on the ground and mama pancha. I also lavish her with my angst of the day, but she doesn't seem to mind.

It reminds me of when people say, "Give it to Jesus." Since that never really worked for me, I give it to Earth.

And here's the question that I gave her today...

How does one give direction to a seventeen year old girl with the following skills:

1. a two year old child;
2. a ninth grade education;
3. a foster home which will terminate in October;
4. a mentally ill Father;
5. a Mother that lives with a pedophile;
6. ummm, that's it. and those are the good parts.

So?

I chose to take her to every military recruiter in town today. Seemed a good idea at the time. WRONG.

She took a practice military entrance exam and made a 7/100. Yes. A 7. (And she's more functional than most of my child clients...) She must score a 50 to be "accepted" to the Army, Navy, or Marines. It takes a 65 for the Air Force. The only way that they will accept someone with a GED is with fifteen college credit hours. Oh, and btw- no single parents.

The economy they all said. We can now have a "more professional military."

Job Corps split Tennessee, as you know. Murder was the cause.

DCS will stop paying for foster parenting in October. And GED classes.

Solve this. Please?

I have some other puzzles to put out there- so let's do our best to continue this conversation...

On a Collexeration of Sophisterated Reform Angst

2010-03-22T00:37:00.005-04:00

Tweet Captures made my Health Care Reform much funnierer.

And Michelle Malkin looks so sweet! Clearly, she's campaigning for Repubs in November! And she wasn't even gonna do that before!

On the accuracy of polling and TAKE THAT and also VIRAL!

On the horrible horrible future fearful awful horrendous-osity of our hellboundedness!

On porn bots being pissed and some histrionic mourning!

On why nobody follows my tweets anymore. I'm an idealist!

Palin/Cheney 2012!

2010-03-10T21:03:00.003-05:00

palin for pres 2012!
teabaggers and birthers, handgun and crossbow hunters, canadian medicine seekers and fearmongers UNITE! please please put this FAIL ticket together...

i cannot think of a better FAIL than a Palin/Cheney nut ticket. my god- just the insinuations of keepamericasafe.org are enough to make one question the sanity of FORMER VP CHENEY HIMSELF!

even conservative republicans reject this insanity... proof that some propaganda doesn't work.

(btw- i dunno a single attorney, including myself, who has not represented a "bad guy..." *bad guys include pedophiles, rapists, child abusers, dead beat dads, murderers, robbers, addicts, and insurance companies...)

Get Dirty

2010-02-24T02:09:00.003-05:00

my disappoint
ment
is
unfathomable
(and repeat Able).

not just repeat
Able
but
repeat
Ed.

i am temper
Ed. but there is
no conduction.

get dirty-
or get
out.

Gluttonous Galaxy

2010-02-21T09:49:00.004-05:00

Why is the Milky Way, in the night sky, perpindicular to our skyline? Why are we not oriented with the galactic plane?

If you're like me, you have been lost for several years and completely missed that it may be because our solar system is currently crucified on the planes of TWO galaxies. Yep, TWO GALAXIES. (excuse my CAPS, but this is really really surprising for me).

So, see the Milky Way above? And what's that other ringy thing that I HAVE NEVER EVER SEEN BEFORE? Why, its another galaxy being eaten by ours, of course! It's the Sagittarius Dwarf Elliptical Galaxy- gone undetected by us because its stars can only be seen with infra red sight... (does this mean that insects see this thing in the night sky??)

See that yellow dot in the crosshairs of the Milky Way spiral arm and the debris from the SagDEG? That's the "You Are Here" dot.

For all sorts of theories on this:

Go Here, Here, Here, Here, ad nauseum.

HOLY SHIT

Loop this; Ima drink wine and listen to him all night...

2010-01-25T20:58:00.002-05:00

Once, years ago, some person told me that I reminded them of "Sovay." And hence, an Andrew Bird love was born...

Sovay

i was getting ready to be a threat
i was getting set for my accidental suicide
the kind where no one dies, no one looks too surprised
and then you, then you realize that you're riding on the para-success
of a heavy-handed metaphor
and a feeling like you've been here before

cause you've been here before, and you've been here before
then a word washed to shore
then a word washed to shore
then a word washed to shore

sovay, sovay, sovay
all along in the day

i was getting ready to consider my next plan of attack
i think i'm gonna sack the whole board of trustees
all those don quixotes in their b-17's
and i swear this time, yeah this time
they'll blow us back to the seventies
and this time
they're playin Ride of the Valkyries
with no semblance of grace or ease
and they're acting on vagaries, with their violent proclivities
and they're playing ride, playing ride
playing ride, ride, Ride of the Valkyries

sovay, sovay, sovay
all along the day

i was getting ready to threaten to be a threat
instead of thinking about my plan of attack, think about a sack
the whole board of trustees, all those don quixotes in their b-17's
and i swear this time it blows back to the 70's
and this time, they're playin Ride of the Valkyries
with no semblance of grace or ease
now they're acting on vagaries
with their violent proclivities

and they're playin ride
and they're playin ride
playin ride, playin ride, playin ride, playin ride
Ride of the Valkyries

sovay, sovay, sovay, sovay, so

Look at the Moon tonight... We're all Mad Here.

2010-01-19T19:59:00.005-05:00

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good- natured, she thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.

Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider.Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
I don't much care where --' said Alice.
Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
-- so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation.
Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat,if you only walk long enough.'

Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. What sort of people live about here?'
In THAT direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round,lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,' waving the other paw, lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat:we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
You must be,' said the Cat,or you wouldn't have come here.'

I just pretended Mr. Gaiman was speaking to me...

2010-01-11T20:43:00.000-05:00

my current obsession with myth, mysticism, and polar express

2010-01-03T11:44:00.004-05:00

as above, so below. -hermes trimegistus

the red book:

the red book is beautiful. and humongous. and one of those things that forces you to pause and think every few words, sentences. it is full of mandalas. and dreams. and footnotes in the translation. my lord, the footnotes!

it's an intimate record of a spiritual path.

jung begins by meeting his soul. his own. which he apologizes to over and over for having ignored, forgotten, turned his back on. like most of us, he believed his consciousness lived in his body- and his soul reminded him that his body lives in his consciousness. (read "The Field" and this makes more sense. Unless you're already schooled on the residence of universal consciousness, matter as energy, etc.)

it would appear that he believed that the natural cycle is to begin life with attainment and intention. to want things, respect, renown, those things that the spirit of our time teach us are important.

and then, in mid-life (which he counts as right past 30), we see that the holes in our hearts are always hungry and either turn inward to our own souls, to see the universe inside us and learn universal truths (which have been there all along, if the phone would stop ringing and the new television would stop blaring), or turn completely outward and consume consume achieve achieve which is always disappointing and never a teacher to our higher selves.

in my adventures in words on paper, it would appear that jung is approaching what others' for ages have approached. what so many teachings have asked us all to approach. our own godhood and potential for sympathetic love.

crowley had his holy guardian angel.

ken wilbur has one taste, big mind.

hindus seek union with the absolute with no form or being.

bodhisattvas seek enlightenment to the oneness of all things.

christ introduced the holy spirit.

the kingdom within ad nauseum

(all these things remind me of the butterfly girl in the satanic verses. a sub-plot which happened to be my favorite part.)

okay- the above list is embarrassingly abbreviated and simplified. but at the same time, a small child "gets it" while we have all grown up and forgotten play, and imagination, and magic and miracles and are no longer able to "get it."

(an aside: silas has been pondering for two weeks about polar express. he insists that the hobo on top of the train told the boy "what is, isn't. and what isn't is." quite the koan for a childrens' movie. i don't even remember what the hobo said. if anything quite this profound. but interestingly enough, i think the story follows the typical hero myth proposed by joseph campbell. but that's another blog. and i've already named it. "santa as one of the thousand faces.)

anyhoo- for the new year, i wanted to assemble people who like to debate these things. and i chose THE WORST BOOK EVER. okay, not the worst ever- but prometheus rising turned out to be an awfully simplistic commentary on consciousness. and i have failed to schedule the bitch session thus far... (please peeps- tell me when you wanna come drink wine! and pick a better book!)

and i'm going to try to get back my imagination, ability to play, and wonderment at magic and miracles. all during a raging bout of hermit-fat-winter-blue-nostalgic for warmth-slug-o-thon-seasonal affective disorder.

feel free to argue on these points. and share. and tell me if you have authored your own red book. unless you're going to tell me i'm going to hell. which is just boring.

The Best Christmas Card I've Ever Gotten

2009-12-16T21:22:00.002-05:00

I am not normally a Christmas Card fan. They're like flowers at a funeral for me- timing to say hello is a bit "off." (No no no person I haven't heard from in years, do not not not kill a tree to see if I am still alive).

But, I did get one that made me laugh this year. Ahem.

From an attorney:

Holiday Greetings and Well Wishes.*

*Blank & Blank, LLC sends holiday greetins and well wishes to you, your family (if you so desire), your friends and others whom you may desire to have a nice and pleasant holiday, but in no way does Blank & Blank, LLC guarantee or warrant, expressly, impliedly, or otherwise, that such individual(s) will experience a pleasant holiday season due to forces beyond the control of Blank & Blank, LLC, including but not limited to acts of outrageous condut by family and friends (including ex-spouses, and soon-to-be ex- spouses), weather events, horrific behavior experienced at retail stores, dreadful traffic, burned ham, turkey or other similar holiday food, atrocious holiday sweaters or other holiday attire, fruit cakes and other undesirable gifts, strings of lights that do not properly work and other comparable holiday stressors. This card is meant as a gift from Blank & Blank, LLC. This card has no cash value and does not have any exchange value for legal services.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAH!

I haven't been this excited since Mini-Bake Oven...

2009-12-09T22:06:00.002-05:00

Tonight, as I was on the phone with another attorney discussing appellate strategy, while Silas was screaming and running and Shawn was here trying to catch him, while the television was blaring Cartoon Network and the neighbors were in the yard, the UPS man came a knockin...

And made a fantasy, reality. You see, I ordered The Red Book months ago, and was denied my order. I called the publisher and found out that the 4,000 they were going to print did not in any way meet the demand. That people were "bumped". That I was bumped. That I could place an order for re-printing in January...

And I did.

And so, today, I recieved my Red Book. First Edition. Completely unaware. And surprised.

And now, I must read.

Normal is...recognition.

2009-12-02T20:55:00.004-05:00

There is a club that most people do not know about- one that my friends Joe and Jenifer used to call the "white trash club"- but, it's a misnomer. The club consists of damaged people... damaged people with Ph.Ds., J.D.s., M.D.s... (tooooo many doctors of whatever)

(I've said for years that people who go to school to long are neurotic...)

Damaged by their lack of fathers or mothers, their poverty, their life in Fifth Avenue Motel or some random trailer park or government housing project, the cigarette burns, the hunger, the beatings, the rapes, ad infinitum. Somehow, miraculously, we all recognize one another...

Is it the smart ass way that they answer everything you say? Is it the way that they're always waiting for the other shoe to drop? Is it the constant seeking and proving of themselves? Is it the persistent substance dependance? Is it the fact that for them, enough is never enough, that whatever they sought to prove cannot be proven? Is it the self loathing disguised as wit or the constant attempt to wear some mask of normalcy?

I don't know. I just know, that I know. Intuitively. As do they.

And somehow, tonight, an acquaintance calls me and says, "I barely know you, but I need to talk to you. You've been to Viet Nam, right? You know where Saigon is." And well, we both knew. And her plight is not the one that I want to address- it is the recognition that her plight is not foreign to me that I want to write about. That she takes comfort in the fact that I do not gasp, that I do not feign shock, that I do not get the vapors as she tells me her story...

And that is what she needs. Someone to make fun of horror. Someone to tell her it's all a cosmic joke. Someone to tell her that it's okay to hate and laugh at the same time. And we do! (you have no idea how many pedophile jokes I know. . .)

And I used to think that this recognition would stop, that I would move to a sphere of higher consciousness. But now, I don't believe there is a higher sphere. Today, in trial, I was asked, "For her grandmother to act as her mother, is that normal?" and I answered, "Yes, my grandmother was MY mother."

And this constant overlying of what is "normal" onto what is "not" is the source of the separateness of people... Is it "normal" to have a lower (or higher) than average I.Q.? Is it "normal" to have interests that coincide with none of your peers? Is your weight or your attracive-ness "normal?" (ad nauseum)

And oddly, there are people who are not of the club who are fascinated by the club. And I announce, "YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE IN THIS CLUB!" And still, they want to be close to the club, to study the members like science projects gone really gothic. I still have no idea what that's about...

But still, I wonder whether any of us really move out of the club. We are never comfortable at cheese tastings and fundraisers, we constantly feel for the underdogs, though our social skills are a bit rough; our grammar is perfect and so is our conversation. I wonder if anyone notices.
I wonder if anyone cares.

No matter. The club is there.

A Grower's Prayer

2009-11-08T18:14:00.006-05:00

Photo found here

i sever you into twenty pieces
off of your sacred spiral seat you go
your paper gasping as I work
my breath whispering to your pungency

i cradle you in my hand, a hundred of you
i stare, humbled before your magic
no gnosis can rationalize your life force
yet we all prophesize your journey

i collect you from my feathered ally
my hand dances to feel your weight
turning you over to see your stark creamy perfection
holding a sphinx my clumsy grasp

and then comes my favorite part
committing you to the worms, and things that no longer are
all senses noting your perfection, and you too joining the dead
i smile, knowing your resurrection is imminent

Photo found here

Saul Williams melted my Face; My life as a Poet Stalker

2009-11-07T11:38:00.003-05:00

November 4. Niggy Tardust. Jon's Cellphone. Opening Song after two other AfroPunk bands. We were IN the song.

I love this man, his poetry, and his brain. Alas, he refuses to marry me.

Thanks to Shawn's inappropriate behavior, Jon and I ended up backstage with Saul. He was crazy gracious and soft spoken. He wrote in my journal; he told Shawn he would come to Knoxville if he "set it up." Sounds like an awesome challenge to me.

Hallowe'en in da hood...

2009-11-01T13:00:00.011-05:00

Halloween in our neighborhood is so excellent, old houses and people, poor folks who really get a kick out of giving your child a piece of candy, homemade spook houses in front yards, actual pagans with their altars on their porches, roving parties which seem to encompass the entire school of archaeology at UT, football games, margaritas, beers, bonfires and giggles.

In my house we chose to actually remember the dead people who we have loved and who loved us, who we miss and who changed us. This was inspired by Mexico's Day of the Dead, but also by the desire to give Silas meaning to an occasion that most find to merely mean a sugar and/or a beer buzz.

Today, we will light a tinley fire (The wren to the robin said, "Make a fire for the new year, for the old year is dead."). Plant seeds (garlic and tulips!) in Mama Pancha and continue with our happy memories and our sugar buzzesssssss.

Dead Shawn and the Priest that undertook 'em... BTW- Senore Taco hearts El Dia De Los Muertos...

Muerto Tracie- and those awesome fall colors honoring the third station of the year and the seeds falling to the ground...

Moi + Muerte.

Chad's strange amalgam of pervy priest and Ph.D. (Notice Sally behind him, perched to defend against him.)

Boba Fett and his Jedi nemesis... (This is the second year running that Silas has chosen to masquerade as one of the bad guys of Star Wars.)

The last of the small sugar skulls after handing them out to Trick or Treaters. We started with ten times this many- and Silas got some "what are those?" from the Tricksters. But, most loved them as they got to pick their own designs...

Shannon as Santa Muerte...

Sophia as Goth Vampire. (Or at least that was her makeup request, she's all into the goth scene.)

Sugar skull assembly line. My floors are STICKY!

I wanted to pour resin over this curl trim to keep it on the table always...

Morning Adjustment of Subjective Reality (or, how i get by today)

2009-10-27T06:32:00.003-04:00

Found: The Heart of Dia De Los Muertos

2009-10-22T00:37:00.002-04:00

“Dia de Los Muertos”

The beat of my heart has disappeared from earth
But it rings loudly in another world

I can still see you, living and dreaming
Loving and smiling
The children, los nietos
I hear them

My love, the one I left behind,
I feel the mourning, I sense the pain
Of Lost

Do not worry
I come back to earth to celebrate my life
In spirit
So will you

Come Dia de Los Muertos
Fill me with living

Let me walk this earth once again
Touch the stars
And kiss the ones I have loved the most

Remember our boda?
The veil you wore
Sprinkled my soul with passion

And my camaradas, how I miss them.
Through thick and thin,
They stood their ground

My nina, my bella nina ...
She said goodbye
In her own special way

Stop.

The rhythm begins
Color your face into skulls
Wear hats in my honor

I see you

Dancing across the night
Under the beauty of the night
To the beat of my heart
The altar in my honor
Inside la casita
Breathes the soul back in me

Dia de Los Muertos,
Come back to me
So I can feel home again.
-Olivia Garcia

The Dark Half of the Year

2009-10-18T21:10:00.003-04:00

La Calavera Catrina

I think I'm special, with the Seasonal Affective Disorder... But clearly, Mama Pancha has it. Obviously, when the days shorten, it is Human Nature to think on sleep and death and nostalgia. These things make me sad...
And so Human Nature, being balanced, tends to lead us to eat sweets and play games and be silly during the hardest of times to be silly...

The Day of the Dead, All Soul's Day, Halloween, Samhain.

We are all the boogie man. I'm going to make sugar skulls and chicken and dumplings. I am going to howl at the moon and beat my drum. I am going to burn a rather large fire and be thankful that I have a child. I think I know what I'm going to be for Halloween.

I really really love this guy...

2009-10-16T00:13:00.003-04:00

and i stole him from here...

Dear universe

2009-10-14T20:35:00.001-04:00

Thank you for my friends, who are my chosen family. And serendipity. And beauty. And love.

Wish Me Luck

2009-10-14T06:03:00.002-04:00

Dear Universe,

It's 5a.m.

I am already tired.

Two briefs (over) due with threatening mail coming from the Court of Appeals...

A trip to Kinkos necessary for binding at 7a.m.-

Many many documents to draft and phone calls to make-

A hearing this morning; an unstable relative trying to get custody of a 13 year old girl-

A pregnant sister to visit in Louisville-

Silas' fall break begins-

My fridge is empty-

Autumn and rain have slowed my biorythms and sapped my energy-

Tammy's off Friday-

Some semblance of a personal life?

Send me mojo, luck, energy, love, orbs and strength. Or funnies; laughing makes me feel better.

I need help.

In Hotlanta...

2009-10-11T20:25:00.002-04:00

Howl at the Moon with Me?

2009-10-11T19:49:00.002-04:00

There are essential and inessential insanities. The latter are solar in character, the former are linked to the moon. -Tom Robbins

October 26. 9 p.m. I'm thinking Ashley Nicole's Dream Playground, grassy area. And drums.

Or, if you have a better idea (or know of someone pulling together a world's fair park, or market square howl) as to the wheres... lemme know!

Yaay!

Can I just say

2009-10-11T16:33:00.002-04:00

that i can't believe that i never took delacey's bellydance class? and she lived a block from me... **on a mission NOW**

Pa rum pa pum pum...

2009-10-07T15:59:00.022-04:00

The problem with photoing a drum circle, is, you're never holding a camera when thinks are really in sync. (like when all the women were dancing around the fire and all the men were drumming- it was ON) Just during the downtime. But here are a few drummers anyhoo!

Mary (hanging drum), Jon (cajon), me (djembe), chad (waaaa waaaa tube), Jamie (post-surgery), and Jana (bongo)

Shannon (ankle bells), Silas and Willie (nintendo DS), Gary (digiridrum) and Matthew (kettle drum). I WANT THAT KETTLE DRUM!

Sophie (Kung Fu Master), Sierra (child drum prodigy), and Jeremiah (skateboard professional)

Amy (bongo), Tut (djembe), Tracie (cajon), Vania (waa waa tube), Robin (congo), Diana (maracca)

Shannon (ankle bells), Keith (bubbles), Jana (snare), Amy (bongo), Tut (djembe)

Tut added a lil scratchin in with his drum style.

Tracie is a gigglebox back there...

I caught all the men in the kitchen, voting that all women from that day forth shall wear ankle bells like Shannons.

The police came at about this time and, PANIC, gasp, wanted someone to move their car...

I love this photo because you can tell that Tracie is totally feeling her beat, by looking at her back.

Vania, is clearly confused by the Cajon.

Jon just put his hand THROUGH THE HEAD OF TRACIES DJEMBE. For realz. He's there, standing, saying WTF?

Me. On the bubbles. My best talent.

Happy Diana.

Another circle soon...

Sexy Newfound Poet!

2009-10-06T10:24:00.003-04:00

I just fell in love with another poet(ry) who I found on another blog... this one (Song of the Taste) makes me achy.

Eating the living germs of grasses
Eating the ova of large birds
the fleshy sweetness packed
around the sperm of swaying trees

The muscles of the flanks and thighs of
soft-voiced cows
the bounce in the lamb's leap
the swish in the ox's tail

Eating roots grown swoll
inside the soil

Drawing on life of living
clustered points of light spun
out of space
hidden in the grape

Eating each other's seed
eating
ah, each other

Kissing the lover in the mouth of bread:
lip to lip.

~Gary Snyder

Skin Art Love

2009-09-27T20:08:00.008-04:00

Saturday, I went to Atlanta with Jon for a visit with Danielle at Only You Tattoo. It's in Grant Park, a part of town I instantly loved, and Danielle did the piece on my inner forearm. She was with 13 Roses Tattoo when I last saw her, now she has her own shop. She's AMAZING.

I wanted the bee theme continued, and so asked for honeycomb and bees- I want it to eventually all morph together as a single piece of art. (for anyone who hasn't seen it, the lower arm is Silas riding a bee through the night sky) Sleeve style. She got an entire sheet of honeycomb and then we cut pieces out on the sheet until it felt "right." She drew up the bees and the three of us took turns finding the right placement... I needed serious help because, well, I can't really look at the inside of my arm. And the mirror was disorienting. Thank Jeebus Jon was there. There is no "right way up" and the organic shape will make it easily "blendable" into the next piece.

This was the first break after the stencil was placed. We had been actually tattooing for about 45 minutes- though she spent an hour on the drawing and placement prior.

Things are starting to get real ouchy here, I had to change into that position because we had been going long enough that my hand kept falling asleep and I was totally sore. She had been working with me for about five hours...

This photo was taken just prior to the one above it; you can see things are getting swolen and bloody,but she's uber-gentle and I only had a few honeycomb and touchups left...

This is immediately after finishing and washing me down...

Six hours. Several smoke breaks and a supper break later, this is how it looked. After we ate, we went back to the shop so that she could photo it sans yucky blood and such. It will be healed in about a week or so, and then the grays (she put several shades of gray in there) will be able to be seen. For now, it's red and black. The colors will settle and make for a clearer pic.

Phew.

Yes. It hurt. And I love it. (Silas too!)

My Kingdom for this BOOK!

2009-09-21T19:58:00.002-04:00

Jung's own private journal chronicleing his personal struggles with his psyche and spirit IS BEING PUBLISHED NEXT MONTH HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. (am i a total dork or what?)

They're only publishing 5000 expensive copies, and the pre-order on Amazon has already sold out.

It looks like the publisher still has some, for $195.00... and I don't care, I'm ordering it.

(is there a name for book addiction??)

Earbobamajigs

2009-09-21T08:25:00.002-04:00

(If you CLICK, It will grow...)

Okay, so most of you know that I'm obsessed with organic earbobamajigs, and they're not so easy to find (outside of Bonnaroo that is, where they're WAY overpriced, like sixty bucks overpriced). I have three pair that I had to search far and wide for- and that's not enough selection for me!

Enter the Brandy/Shannon bidness venture of Bodhi Bodies. We picked thirty organics and ordered them from a producer in Bali. They're all handmade by Balinese men, of water buffalo horn, bone, brass, silver, abalone, amber, mother of pearl, and indigenous wood. NOTHING is killed for the earbobs, as water buffalo is the primary meat product of Indonesia and as the craftsman says "makes number one satay." The rest are renewable resources, as the Balinese are loving of their environment. (Actually, he thought I was silly to think that maybe, just maybe, they're cutting a tree or killing an animal for earbobs... or that little kids were making them.)

Now, of course, you're saying to yourself "Pretty, but I cannot cram those huge emeffers in my ears..." NOT TRUE! A standard ear peircing is an 18 or 20 gauge post. These begin at 12, which is a small stretch. Yes, you have to stretch. But...

1. It's really not painful, just a lil throbby for a bit...
2. I will show you how...
3. Yes, you can still wear your "regular" earrings (unless you decide to go balls to the wall on this)...
4. Myself, Tracie Hellwinckel, Shannon Foster, and Amy Brown have already "stretched" and none of us cried... (Shannon felt all "native" and Amy just excitedly texted me a couple of nights ago that they were IN.)
5. If you're already a large gauge, we have imported those too...
6. These will not irritate your piercings. I have always had to wear gold- till now.

Anyhoo- Bodhi Bodies will have a website soon and a twitter account. This is so that anyone who decides to stretch will be able to find NEW styles without going to Bonnaroo or Atlanta. Oh, also, I'm selling these things.

twitter.com/BodhiBodies is not quite active yet, but maybe you can follow it now...
BodhiBodies.com is owned by us, but not built yet, we will tweet when it's ready...
twitter.com/bbmumblings is me!
twitter.com/ikildjennie is Shannon...
twitter.com/LadyWinckel is Tracie, if you wanna ask her about the stretch... she's the "biggest"

Also, if anyone actually orders before they arrive (we're looking at prolly a week or so now) then the price is 20% less, and if you think you can sell these things to your peeps- we are cutting others in! We have presold enought that we anticipate placing another order ASAP, after these arrive.

xoxo
me

Mind Blowing Procrastination

2009-09-20T17:03:00.003-04:00

I'm cranked on two pots of coffee and two appellate briefs; brainbreak needed in way of blogggggggggg....

Body and soul are not two different things, but only two different ways of perceiving the same thing. Simarly, physics and psychology are only two different attempts to link our experiences together by way of systematic thought. - Al Einstein

I just finished devouring (and obsessing- OCD here) Carl Jung's everything. After going through a past life regression with a hypnotherapist, I was semi-desperate to prove to myself that my subconscious was trying to tell me something through symbols and archetypes. (and disprove the "eternal" portion of spirit and the "validity" of past life) Well, that little hypothesis failed (another succeeded in some way that I cannot yet describe in words), but somehow led me to energy theories and then to quantum physics (don't worry, there's no math in this blog, promise).

I read The Dancing Wu Li Masters ages ago (by ages, I believe about a decade ago) which is a physicist's take on the "awareness" of all molecules (not cells, but molecules, atoms, electrons, protons) and the meaning behind that awareness (chi, ka, thymos, prana). That physicist was Gary Zukav, who I immediately discounted because he became some Oprah monologue guru and started writing self-help (which I totally detest). He flaked on me, or at least I thought he did.

And now I've got this insane book in my hands, written in a somewhat scholarly manner, well researched, with copious amounts of footnotes and references to learned treatises... That's an epistle to the cynic, that points to all matter not equalling energy but being pure energy, not just things we perceive as non-living, but plants, animals, consciousness. That living things emit light (whaaa- my science professors never, ever told me that photons emanate from living things-holy shit) that living things are as connected to the energies of the "mass" (except there's no such thing as acutal mass) that surround them and respond to that in kind... that electrons may be "willed", yes WILLED by physicists to take on certain behaviours- to conform to our perceptions. That a million other wild things...

Okay- so this book may be boring boring boring to some people, and a tough read to some, but it's complicated and BEAUTIFUL. I needs some peeps to read it so we can talk about this (please do...)

A human being is part of a whole, called by us "Universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest -- a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. The striving to free oneself from this delusion is the one issue of true religion. Not to nourish it, but to try to overcome it, is the way to reach the attainable measure of peace of mind. -- Al Einstein

Whoa.

Drum Circle

2009-09-07T09:59:00.003-04:00

Edit: All confirmations are being posted under comments, unless you're super secretive, then I promise not to tell (rose guy). Otherwise, does anyone know anyone who does poi, bellydance, etc. They need to come...

My back yard.
Drum circle.
October 3.
Harvest Moon.
Neil Young and Mickey Hart would be proud.
Fire pit provided...
You introduce the rhythm, we will follow.
I just wanna dance... (and so does Silas!)

If you know any good drummers- please put them in contact with me. bb ain't got no talent...

see ya there!

What do ya do?

2009-09-03T21:05:00.002-04:00

What do you do when opposing counsel puts his hand on the inside of your leg each time he sits next to you?

What do you do when second chair counsel whispers incessantly in your ear, with his cheek to your cheek, his hand on your hand, and his lips on your ear?

What do you do when each time you're at the court clerk's counter, another attorney walks up and places his hand on the small of your back, under your jacket?

What do you do when your law professor incessantly calls the office, after your lunch with him inexplicably turned into a "date?"

What do you do when a judge calls you into his chambers, appoints you on a case, and then begins to explain the obsessions of sex to you?

What do you do, when all of these people are men and you are a woman?

Smile, that's what I do. What else is there?

Dear beautiful people who chat up my blog...

2009-09-02T20:30:00.003-04:00

I promised during "A Playpark in my Mind" to write about what odd spiritual awakening that took place with (for?) me some time ago.

A bizarre, unanticipated accident has happened. My practice writing on the subject has turned into a full on book. That's not finished. That will take me months to finish. I'm still digesting.

Then I will understand, and then I can share. If you want me to.

xoxo

Ths ain't your mama's fence...

2009-09-01T23:19:00.004-04:00

Usually, at House of Silly (nee, Purple House), friends and foes have to cram on my porch for the conversation... a porch shared with a chicken, her poop, an out of control pumpkin, one to three children, odds and ends furniture, a hammock, and my camp gear... (yes, I AM a slob). But a miracle has occurred, and you my friends shall suffer no longer!

As if the toys on my cabinets, the random Harry Potter references, the books of childhood, the butterflies randomly placed on the walls, the silly figures standing sentinel over the doors,the bicycle parked in the kitchen, the random wild artwork of anyone who will make me some, the laundry everywhere (etc etc etc) were not enough whimsy- I have added my "very granny sanford and son privacy fence" to the mix... And now, we have room to move.

FYI- The fence was inspired by the drawings of old old fences in Mercer Mayer books; Bubble Bubble is the exact one. I've got a Mercer Mayer addiction.

Eddie and Sonny of the hood gladly undertook the job with their crew. On Sunday, they dug all the holes, set the fence posts, and built the frames for the fence. Monday, at my request for randomly sixed rough hewn lumber, they trekked to an Oak Ridg sawmill and picked up 1400 board feet of thick oak planks.

(wait... scroll down... this picture has nothing to do with this, i just like it)

These planks are twelve feet long and according to Eddie, are typically used in constructing furniture.

Because I wanted the 1930s junkyard look, they eyeballed the halfway point of each plank, cut it, and nailed it up. And today, my all original stick built, annoying to the neighbors fence is UP!

And already I am thinking of the parties that I'm going to throw for you guys... (of course, culminating in our yearly solstice bacchanalia). But in the meantime- I have forty feet of alley facing graffiti wall that needs some love.

That's right! Dig out all those buckets with only an inch of paint left in them, find your old spray cans, get out your stencils- because the alley needs to lighten up and I need your contribution!!! So, whaddya doin this weekend?

Ears of the Sacred and the Profane; A Body Mod for All

2009-08-30T12:11:00.008-04:00

The stretched lobes of gods, goddesses, demigods, spiritually gifted, tribal communities, etc. are beautiful to me. For Buddha, (referring to Siddhartha specifically rather than other Bodhi Bodies) it was a matter of him being a rich prince in a culture that expected the rich to stretch and fill with all manner of (heavy) jewelry. Of course, once he became ascetic, the lobes remained...

And because he was so wise, and patient, the lobes became a symbol for wisdom and patience and were mimicked by many buddhists...

Wisdom and patience, and the transition into adulthood, were also indicated with stretches from many native tribes- where it was (is) honored to have long lobes (often beginning the stretches in childhood...) , and this practice continues... These tribes, past and present, include the Maya, Aztec, Masai, Dayak, Thai Hill Tribes, Pokot, Dogon, Kudi, Lobi, Samburu (i'm gonna stop here...)

King Tut's ears appear to be small compared to the others above, but he died when he was nineteen. Statuary of pharohs that made it into old age have the very large stretch, like the woman in the photo above, which was probably cause by the wearing of large, heavy earrings. His ears would have always been filled with gold in honor of the sun god...

My honor for this tradition has nothing to do with most of the kids walking around Hot Topic in the mall; for them, this is usually a fashion statement (which to me is a body modification which is little different than breast implants and just about as common). But when you see it embraced in a calming and sacred manner, it becomes calming and sacred itself.

It isn't novel. It isn't weird. I wonder, if we explained to the Masai our obsession with breast implants, face lifts, hair transplants, etc. whether they would point, snigger, and judge?

An aside: My ears are stretched to fit a ten gauge earring- allowing me to wear organics which are produced from bone, horn, antler, wood, etc. Initially, I did this precisely to wear these beautiful organics, and over time, have come to appreciate that there was a bit more than a fashion statement going on with me, and the stretching. And though I am going to stop at an eight gauge, I can't promise that I won't look like the old lady in the pictures when I'm all wrinkly, and shelling peas on my front porch. I think she's beautiful...

This change of attitude happened with my tattoos also- with the initial one being a piece of trash flash that I pick off the wall at a parlor when I was seventeen, and the one I am getting in September having much much soulful meaning to me.

When archaeologists find my body, it's going to be of much interest!

A Season of Plenty

2009-08-26T08:58:00.007-04:00

Feelin' thankful... and granola.

Money, one way or another, is causing everyone (myself very included) some aches and pains these days... How do we cope?

Well, first of all, take a look at Tracie's Happy Garden... it feeds so many with sweat equity. And yesterday, when I picked Silas up from school- he demanded fried green tomatos as his after school snack... Tracie hooked me up with a greenie turning yellow one- and it was AWESOME. If you want to learn more about natural ways of eating and living (read FREE) then read Tracie's monthly publication: Agrarian Urbanite. Also, you can always joint the Knoxville Permaculture Guild- its fun!

And I am also a fan of the guerilla gardeners out there who just put food into the world. Jon planted some maters in ditches in the hood, and I have some friends who shall not be named who have a GIGANTIC GUERILLA GARDEN on an empty lot in the hood.

And guerilla gardens allow us to scavenge, to forage... Much like wild blackberries (which make the bestest bestest cobblers and jellies- and tons of them are on the way to Seven Islands) and wild persimmons, which I can eat till I am sick, I scavenged some pears from a Fourth and Gill Street Corner yesterday. (14 pears to be exact).

The tree is a huge, old fashioned, baking pears tree. (I don't know the pear species, but suffice it to say that the pears are the kind your grandma grew, crisp and hearty and so sweet that they make your hands sticky, nothing like the smooshy ones in the grocery...) The tree is so ignored, that its branches are bending from the weight of the fruit, near breaking. Pears cover the street and the sidewalk beneath it, and there are so many people around just ignoring this gift from nature. .. So I accepted the gift thankfully.

I'm going to make pear preserves, and baked pears, and gift the pears, and plant one of the seeds in my yard. How beautiful life is, even without money...

I don't practice Santeria, I don't have a crystal ball...

2009-08-24T13:07:00.002-04:00

Did you hear that Marian Robinson (Barack's mother-in-law) practice Santeria? Wonkette did... and the source is Townhall, who appears to have taken down it's journalist endeavor once it was constantly busted on. But, do a search for White House + Witch and you'll get a kabillion resultes- with only the portions that Wonkette republished because, like magic, the article went POOF.

And even better- the author, Kristen Atkinson, submitted an email of complaint to Wonkette. For the love of Orisha, please click here and read it! (I promise you won't regret it.)

And although I could go on for ages about Kristen's letter to Wonkette, I won't, because she's clearly mentall ill. Instead, I want to assume it's all true and not give a flying fuck.

I mean, dammit, Mary Todd Lincoln was an occultist who held seances at the White House. This is tradition.

My own dear great grandma was quite the accomplished agricultural astrologer and only planted with the signs were in the knees, or whatever appropriate bodypart the signs were in... Every cheap calendar that the local farmer's co-op gave out had the phase of the moon, the sign, and the corresponding body part listed on each day. (I would love to explain to you this planting in the knees, and sign business, but alas, I paid no attention, and so her wisdom is lost... except for google.)

And I had a bit of healing magic performed on me as a child. I had warts on my hand, and yowled and yelped everytime my parents pulled out the Compound W... so...

They took me to the crone down the road who slaughtered the best pigs and made the best sausage available... She removed warts for a penny. Not your penny, hers. And again, I paid little attention to what she did except for say some words, break off some broomstraw, rub it on me, burn it, and give me a penny. My warts disappeared, without me noticing.

Maybe that was Santeria too.

Purple Pumpkin Eater

2009-08-19T19:52:00.002-04:00

Last Halloween, Jon and I made a trek to Union County in order to answer his charge of indecent exposure (yep. he was charged with indecent exposure. because he pee peed. in the woods. on a kayaking trip. srsly. i think it may have had something to do with his rainbow flag and his obama stickers.) On our way outta Dodge, we stopped at a little roadside flea market because they had pumpkins of shapes and sizes that we had never seen.

Jon fell in love with some bright orange minis, and I became attached to some almost pastel orange ones that looked like they had been covered with a light dusting of flour. We snatched them up at two bucks apeice and were happy to not buy big orange overpriced Californian balls from Kroger. (yay! local!)

When I asked the farmer, who's English delivery bordered on deliverance, "What kind of pumpkin is this?" He looked at me like I was crazy, "The old-timey kind. That you eat. That kind." Ahem. And Q and A session was over.

I loved her fat nubbly self so much that I couldn't bear to carve her, nor cook her, nor even move here. So there she was, all winter, getting mushier and mushier, until she had to be removed with a shovel. I saved a handful of seeds with the luscious idea of growing my own old-timeys.

In the meantime, the heirloom seed research begain. And well, she's french. The pumpkin was a musque de provence, and is the model pumpkin for fairytale drawings and old postcards and Halloween decor from the thirties...

I started the seed early spring, and FAIL. I got one sad little start, when suddenly, a monster appeared next to my porch where she passed on. This plant has slowly begun to devour my front yard and house (no, I won't cut it back) and blooms like mad (I may just start frying the blooms) and the one little start is only about three feet long.

But she's got one good size pumpkin on her, and several small ones. We should be eating pumpkin all winter. And avoiding the bright orange overpriced Californian balls that Kroger calls pumpkins this Halloween.

Here's my pride and joy. This pic is a couple of days old and she has grown lots in this rain.

And here's the mother of all french pumpkins! (It too, is bigger now.) If you don't see me for awhile, you should come check the house to see if I can get out.

Cumberland Island National Seashore

2009-08-10T13:59:00.002-04:00

Snuffles of armadillos
so close, they're your pets
Snakes so calm
they sunworship with you
Raccoon offerings left each night
Five wild horses
who join you on your night swim
Nudges from nocturnal stallions
waking you in your hammock at midnight
Frogs singing, frogs holding on
sucker toes on your shoulder
Beatles who join your picnic
and skeeters who picnic on you

Dunes filled with
freshwater necessaries
creature tracks to the treasure
Sea oats feeding the
hungry and the hungry feeding
Bobcats -roaming in moonlight
a marriage therein
of people and nature and love
wearing sea nets as rings
and swearing undying love to children

Sacred numbers following
thirty-six, the age that i became
thirteen, the honeymoon suite
ten, the years C and T have shared
six, the number of company
two, the number of young souls
one million, the stars

Live oak forests with moss
Spanish, reaching to touch
Palmetto- the home to millions
Living leaf litter and
Toys for the boys
Climbing her arms, her body
Basking in her cool, sweat
illuminating all who pass
Dappled sunlight, comfort,
so near the beating heat of the
Burning Dunes- but an entire
World Apart.

An ocean teeming with life
caressed by the moon each night that
she Rises, full and whole
imparting her magick to the tiny
living that we all are
splashing our faces in amniotic fluid
she teaches, she calms with
White Noise.

Did you ever wonder...

2009-07-27T17:23:00.005-04:00

Whether fish could live in a barrell? (they can)

What those 50 cent goldfish were for, anyway? (to terrorize mosquito larvae)

Where blackberries go when they die?

Or what what the heck was written on the AFP chair?

Esoteric Tangents

2009-07-23T17:00:00.005-04:00

Currently reading Man and His Symbols and Jung on Synchronicity. I picked it up at McKay today and the prior owner wrote the following in the flap:

for ms. series
audrey. pushing me
against truck
. brain,tissue, flexing into
a grin behind my
skull

Creative, right? It entertained me for a moment, wondering how the previous owner came to that poem. I though it rang sexual, whaddya you think?

I'm so fascinated by Jung. As I have always eschewed the irrational as unimportant and make every attempt to embrace logic, it's amazing to me that Mr.J is able to discuss protons and magnetic fields along with dream interpretation and collective consciousness is amazing.

Left brain + right brain. We can use both? No. He says we must use both. That we are damaging ourselves by refusing to use both. That our consciousness has not fully evolved until we are able to embrace both. HARD. WORK.

Of course this study of symbology, dreams, and the subconscious (which Mr. Jung always refers to as the unconscious) is related to the Playpark in my Mind.

I am also attempting to meditate; to clear my mind. Thus far it would appear that I need guided meditation as my logical self continually knocks on the door; vox Dei is not to be found in reason. I have my hopes up that next week's very quiet ocean trip will allow me some learning time.

The ocean has always been healing for me. In Costa Rica, I had an experience with the ocean that I now have tattooed on my body. After 7 years off birth control and a miscarriage, I got pregnant with Silas during a trip to the ocean to tickle manatees. So, I am excited to sit and listen to her, alone, at sunrise. And remember that I am tiny.

Till then, trial. Olives. Coraline. Yard sale. Tune up. Briefs. Books. Silas comes home.

Time passes too quickly for my taste.

A Playpark in my Mind

2009-07-19T21:29:00.005-04:00

I have run the gamut of spirituality/religiousity in a mere thirty-five years on Earth. In retrospect, the evolution (devolution?) went a little something like this:

strict charismatic christianity>>>strict southern baptist sans charisma with baptism>>>methodist college with serious study of biblical formation>>>serious study of comparative religions>>>acceptance of philosophies of many eastern religions and questioning faith>>>agnosticism with scientific basis>>>athiesm with acceptance of positive philosophies of all religions>>> humanism>>>cynical humanism and disappointment

And that's where I stood. Cynical Humanism. It seemed based on both empirical and anecdotal evidence.

Until Saturday.

And on Saturday, something happened; an intimate participation with my psyche. This is something that no episode of my life compares. Something that I myself set up, but in some way expected to affirm my cynicism. Something that was powerful and beautiful and exhausting enough that I cannot yet describe or accurately speak about the experience. Something that resulted in me sleeping for four hours immediately afterward due to total exhaustion, without moving a muscle.

And on Saturday, I experienced something that I had eschewed as mere fantasy although such great minds as Socrates, Plato, and Pythagoras, Benjamin Franklin, Jack London, Napoleon, Mark Twain, Tolstoy, Henry Ford, Jung, and Ghandi... these minds all experienced and accepted the lovely intellectual gauntlet to which I am so newly exposed.

And suddenly, bizarrely, unexpectedly, I find myself embracing the genius of the subconscious, the power of meditation, the validity of the immortal spirit and the invalidity of physical death.

Everything. Everyone. Seems larger than my perception of "life", bigger than I had given them credit.

I will tell the story once I understand it. But I had to write that my subconscious is no longer asleep; it has been roused by internal experience.

Please, if you, my friend, are playful with your subconscious mind, if you understand your body's reaction to meditation, if you are at this place of self-examination and are introspective, call me. We need to chat over a glass of wine.

What to say to a new Poetess? Thank you.

2009-07-06T21:39:00.004-04:00

My friend, Shannon, sent this to/for/about me today.

Robin Hood

Freeze the moment, hold it tight.
A summer night full of impromptu parties, chicken shit, cheap beer, ashtrays heaped with cigarettes, noisy neighbors, playing children.
It is there your hood was dropped.
In hazy porch light I swam through clouded water to reach your mind, full and deep.
Scariest dark places laden with dangerous unfound treasures.
It is also where I found your belief lost.

In that frozen moment filled with laughter and Sexstrology,
Head on hand you dropped your hood,
there you were sideways smile absent.
Tired, curious, searching, stalking, open, wanting in a moment wholly unconcealed.
Sleepy brown eyes lazying around like a big cat.
Fearing for your weakness, fighting your strength, and you feel it everyday.
Towering above the Liliputians that surround you.

Did you know that I watch you Robin Hood as you save the world around you?
A futile and bloody attempt.
Did you know that I listen to your stories, fascinated by the mysteries that drive you?
Did you know that in that smokey chicken filled inebriated summer night I saw a glimpse beyond the hood?
I want to reach my hand into that mind and pull from you all that you know, see and desire.
I want to wrestle that intellect until it submits to the beauty dying to be free.

You dropped your hood my friend,
but I will pick it up and cover you again.
Keeping the secret of who you are safe inside me.

A Kerfuffle of Confusing Parentheticals

2009-06-28T08:57:00.014-04:00

Silas harvested the first food that he has ever grown from seed on Friday. He was so proud of his cabbage; he started the seed in science lab at school. Although the outer leaves had been annihilated by slugs (Tracie told me to put ground eggshells around her, but alas, I was a day late and a dollar short for Ms. Cabbage to go unscathed. Slugs love my yard.) In the meantime, Stella felt pretty proud of herself Friday when she found my lettuce patch.

She has dug herself a dustbathing hole and spoils herself by eating my lettuces as she bathes. I don't mind, they're all going to seed at the moment, and I don't believe that she's able to eat ALL the seeds. I'm going to collect them.

She's so full of herself. What a spoiled little girl. Stella's pretty smart; she even knows her name now.

By the way, I am a total fan of Earthfare. Silas never complains when we get groceries there (he just eats eats eats free samples) and there are NO Oreos for him to ask for. They buy as much as they can locally, and their corporate headquarters are in Asheville. They donate proceeds to charities, invited Beardsley Farm, the Cherokee Nation, etc. to their grand opening week, and well, their cheese selection makes me get the vapors... I may never have to go to Fellini Kroger again!

So, EarthFare and Twwly Suicide inspired me to attempt to make my own yogurt and cheese. (That and the fact that the sugary yogurts in the grocery taste more like jello; they have done away with the "tang") EarthFare, because they have the necessary bacteria and Twwly because she blogs blogs blogs about her cheeses (and her kids, and her family, and her tattoos, and her natural living choices). (I have followed Twwly's blog for some time; read it!)

This is my first ever ever cheese attempt and it turned out pretty good. (That's Tammy's desk and elbow behind there...) The flavor was like a tangy cream cheese with the consistency of goat cheese (which I love!). I'm going to find some goat's milk next, because I think I can successfully make my own goat cheese which is stupid expensive at the grocer. Of course, first I had to make yogurt...

Once we had all eaten our fill of the yogurt, I was left with curds and whey, which I drained through a coffee filter in my fruit sieve. It drained for about two hours and then was solid. I did not save the whey (although its packed with nutrition) because I had no idea how to incorporate it into our food. Must work on this later...

You can see the massive amount of whey that was left once we had dipped out the bulk of the yogurt. Tammy and I had ours with blueberries and granola; Silas had his with mangos and cinnamon. NO SUGAR ADDED.

I love this sieve. My grandma had one EXACTLY like it, and I found this one at the junk store across from my old office. I think I gave two bucks for it, and so far this year it has been used to make rose and peony jelly, and now cheese. Blackberries next!

By the way, I prefer wild blackberries. I think the flavor is more intense than the "tame" (read:gigantic thornless) ones, and the seeds are the size of grains of sand rather than bb's. I like to leave seeds in for cobbler and jams. Because of this, I am always keeping an eye out for wild blackberry patches and have found two. The first is on the way to Seven Islands; the roadsides are covered. The second is in the most unexpected of places; the far parkinglot of Splash Country is SURROUNDED by massive blackberry patches.

Woot!

Bonnafail; the ugly side of Manchester.

2009-06-24T19:29:00.018-04:00

We all love love love Bonnaroo... but let's be honest, it's got it's filthy side... drugs, booze, poop and puke... which we all ignore and refuse to look at in order to continue on our four day denial of real life and our friendships and our muzak. But honestly, the ugly is beautiful and funny and touching and well, we all love the FAILS for the LULZ. So, here are a few.

fails:

Sleepy head. Missed the Beastie Boys.... poor baby.

Our very own camp FAIL. Tyler's tent leaked in the storm first night, so he made camp in his car. This resulted his daytime sleeping with a fan on his belly in 99 degree weather.

So cornfused about the diaper dudes. There were several. .. No porta potty use? Anyhoo- this one wanted to really hug up on my friend because he said he was "mellow."

The MuMu was everywhere... on men. FAIL AGAIN.

These were the "taxis" and that was the "mud." Obvious Fail.

Nuttin to say here. Hope it's not your cousin.

Smile. You're at Bonnaroo. Failing.

Dose him. Because obviously his dose from this morning failed.

This is a FAIL pic of Jonathan, because he's much cuter than this photo. But the REAL FAIL was that we all though that pink haired was a tranny. NOPE. That's a chick. Named Midge.

FAIL nudity. FAIL sunburn.

FAIL not obvious here... When you see it....

Walkway failure. Swampfoot.

For me this was a FAIL; for him it was success. The night before he asked to bum some money because he wanted to get drunk and lost. It appears he reached his goal.

Obed/Solstice/Baby Daddy Day... Yay!

2009-06-21T19:13:00.014-04:00

The pleasures of the Obed Wild and Scenic River are not to be had for free. It takes tenacity, rockclimbing skills, an urge to trailblaze, an ability to use a primitive camp, some kayaking aptitude, mad camp cooking skilz, a love for all wildlife including mosquitos, tolerance for men who swim in their jeans holding a natty lite, midnight catfishers, and hopefully a four-wheel drive clunker.

AND IT'S TOTALLY WORTH IT! (kayaking daddy's creek from devil's breakfast table next)

A beautiful calm portion of the river, for which we scaled down a cliff to enjoy. The way up was much, much more difficult and included a broken tree extended down to Silas and I.

Awesome Neighbor. (clickey the pickey to make it bigger.) This here fella just caught this copperhead scavenging his fish guts while cleaning the fish he had just caught. (Notice the bulge in the snake's belly and the fish skin still hanging from the snake's mouth.) I kept asking him if he was going to kill it, and he said no... he enjoys being bitten. "The best high you've ever had. Better than LSD. Done it four times." Word to Wartburg.

Bubbles blowing over fire mesmerized the Si. That, and total exhaustion.

He's beautiful, even when he stinks. And boy, did he.

Magick Daddy Silas time here. This was our private swimming hole down the side of the mountain. NEED KEENS. CHACOS WEAK.

Father's Day Supper. Shucked 'em myself.

Umh, so the ones I couldn't shuck, we smoked on the embers of our fire. Easier to open when DEAD.

This abandoned tunnel runs right up next to a BUSY train track, and is the only method of getting across to the other side of the river. Jon glady flies through it in the dark (the water gets deep deep in there) but we chickened out.

This Awesome joint is where you get your firewood. HONOR SYSTEM. I heart it so...

The joys of Wartburg.

Poof!

2009-06-19T12:01:00.012-04:00

Erasure completed! Defuse-ion. De-Fretted...

I tend to make radical life decisions on the fly(ing)...

My first day working from home went a little something like this...

coffee in jammies, arrival of Tammy, juvenile court (kiddie in tow), case heard and closed (kiddie plays with other attorneys), earthfare for lunch and grand opening, us cellular for blackberry repair, back to the house (0ffice!), make a pot of coffee (in my newly paralegally scrubbed house), return about ten phone calls, visit with a pop-in friend, drink a cold beer, draft and sign a motion, the end.

Holly is totally stressing out here by the fax machine. . .

The house is a bit full now, but I heart my books. . .

The view from my desk . . . (and yes, that's a gigantic copier/scanner/fax/printer there, its gonna be moved soon)

Notice the Whack-a-Mole game in the bottom left corner. . .

It's hard to be frustrated now, with play-doh on my desk, and Kimya Dawson playing on the stereo (with Si singing along). The phone rings about twenty times a day, rather than a hundred, and the fax machine hums but not as loudly as the splashy noises from the fish tank. I believe my hesitation to do this was cemented in my own ego and pride; letting them go is catharsis. (I'm such a Leo, and will continue to struggle with vainglory.)

I wish it hadn't taken so long for me to sprout the ability to discern seed from chaff (an ability still in its infancy); I'm still a work in progress.

bioluminescence

2009-06-16T13:13:00.004-04:00

some people contain a salutary glow
like a bloom of phosphorescent algae
i honor them

their breasts are full of empathy
and art and poetry
and most of all love

their marrow pulls them to bliss
and they light our way to euphoria
though their paths do not often converge

their reason is made of healing
and science and genius and justice
obsessions which cure our ails

their consciousness hails friendship
above all things, human relationships
their fingerprints on our souls

i follow and read them
i befriend and smile their way
they are not afraid to be alive

greetings

2009-06-09T08:23:00.003-04:00

i ask you, "is all well?"
and you tell me, "no."
and it doesn't matter who you are,
the answer is always the same, no.

no, my head hurts
i have heartburn and heartache
i'm bored and my ego is bruised
i need some money and some attention
i hate my job, i hate my life.
it's too hot and muggy for golf,
it's too rainy for gardening.

and i would like to comfort you through your problems,
yet these are not problems.
they are simply signs of your determination
determined to live in darkness, when there's plenty of sunshine.
you have no problems, and refuse to notice.
i cannot assuage self imposed fears.

cancer, incest, hiv, bankruptcy
child molestation, sexual assault
disregard for life, for earth
drug addiction, crack and needles
still births, divorce, beatings
justice denied, racism, -isms

normally, you own none of these.
just a simple disappointment of a life of quiet desperation.
just a failure to create your reality.
and next time i will ask a rhetorical question.
i will ask, "what's horrible about today?"
and you, whoever you may be, will not answer.

pottytraining a chicken

2009-06-01T12:53:00.003-04:00

this weekend- whiteface and peep fell to the forces of the darkside.

when i found them, they were both lying on the ground, completely gutted, and mowgli was standing in the rubble.

mowgli has a big bite out of her wing, a portion of her comb missing, and a broken foot. those are the parts that i can see.

she peeps constantly for her sisters. she has a peeping purrrr that she exercises when i pet or hold her. she follows me around the house. she tried to follow dingle, but as usual, dingle plucked out her tail feathers. she has no sense of balance now and keeps falling off of things.

the first night i brought her in the house (awaiting the building of a hen house, the coop too weak), i put her in a rubbermaid container. a couple of hours later, she was nowhere to be found. when the sun rose the next morning- she was in the hanging light fixture in the dining room. good hiding spot.

silas now understands that the hen is a girl, and calls her she. he renamed her stella. i added the artois. (beerz beerz beerz) he tends to call her stella mowgli now.

this is her third day inside. i stopped by the house a bit ago, and i caught her pooping in the toilet. now, whether the toilet seat is a good perch, thereby rendering this a coincidence, is unknown. but if she potty trains herself- well- we have a very very odd house pet on our hands.

pic of stella artois below, posted from my cell

Stella Artois nee Mowgli

2009-06-01T12:49:00.000-04:00

Thank you for using Picture and Video Messaging by U.S. Cellular. See www.uscellular.com for info.

The unbearable darkness of being

2009-06-01T01:12:00.000-04:00

And so, just when you thought you had it licked, you realize... Its no easier than it ever was. As a matter of fact, your selective numbness has resulted in the kind of misery and shakes normally reserved for heroin addicts coming off the junk. But its just that little part of you that always throbs like a raw nerve being chewed, with or without a white pony. You forgot it was there... How lovely. Now wake up. Ache you have, and ache you always will.

Yeah. Me too.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

Driven Brutal Bitch Evolution

2009-05-17T19:18:00.004-04:00

I'm like William S. Burroughs, searching for the cure. My life is not quite Naked Lunch, thank god, but it's not quite heroin that I'm trying to kick. It's not tangible. It's not physical.

About a year ago, I believed I had affluenza. I tried in every respect to live as simply as is possible, hoping for a panacea.

Then I read Your Money or Your Life, which is mindbending. The authors present a simple formula for figuring out how many minutes of life you are bargaining in any particular purchase. Suddenly, I was spending life instead of money. I decided that the gobs of money I was (am) spending on office overhead was a waste of life. She's closing.

Too simple. Self diagnosis usually fails. And I am not quite cured.

Currently, the unnamed disease has spread. Jon has not been to work in some time; he is an insurance agent and cannot bring himself to continue to participate in the insurace scam. Shannon is metamorphosing from a lucrative area retail manager to a bartender and eventual feminist club owner. Her friend is giving up her nursing practice very very soon. A successful computer programmer in my neighborhood has quit, grown out his hair, and is starting a non-profit group. Angela has sold her law practice. These are just a few of the people that I know who have caught it.

I would like to chalk this up to midlife crises- but these people are all of different life stages, experience, and places. These people are all successful. Educated. Smart. There appears to be little commonality between us, well, except for me. I may be the Typhoid Mary of recognizing our counterfeit selves.

Previously we needed boats and new cars and status and respect. And we all worked really hard, and got it. And we still were empty, eating anti depressants and xanax, with a bottle of wine chaser. Says the abovementioned computer programmer, "The money never fills me up."

I can't speak for the others' but I never knew myself well enough to even guess the proper roller coaster to ride. I always chose the path that made someone else believe I was worthwhile. I even worked at an insurance defense firm in law school, for god's sake. For plenty of money. And plenty of posing.

The defense firm offered me a job in the end, which I politely refused. This resulted in a three hour exit interview, anger, shock. It's similar to many of the reactions I now get when I share my pending office closure. That and all out smartassery. (an aside: at a party this weekend, a palsied old lawyer told me that it took him thirty years and a stroke before HE wanted to quit. he was being an asshole, and i'm trying to avoid the stroke. the evil smartass retorts going through my head did not come out my mouth. but nearly.)

People hate it when you don't follow the script.

And I have also consistently denied my feminine self. As a child, I wanted to please my mysoginistic father (who sadly, had no sons to corrupt) so I hunted and fished and cut wood with him. Skinning Rabbits. Hunters' Safety Course when I was ten. Shooting practice. Motorcycles. Physical.

After a year of college, I took the extra step in trying to grow a penis, by joining the U.S. Navy, which at the time was around 85% male. Even better, my job within the Navy was physically laborious, and I was the only female who worked as a guard on the base. Boot camp. Shooting practice. Pressure points. Forklifts. 9mm and PR-24 training. I was an expert marksman. (seriously, i got a ribbon and everything. word.)

And believing I was tired of the testosterone overload that was the military, I returned to college and majored in a science- a science that could land me nowhere but working for the TWRA. Carrying a gun. Arresting spotlighters. Wearing a uniform. Ugh.

And again, believing I was giving up this incredibly phallic path, I applied to law school. ERROR ERROR ERROR. I landed in a world populated with old smartass men, sexism so strong that it's fairly comon for me to get felt up in court, letters and conversations so brutal that I actually hang them on the wall to PROVE they occurred, and a vague perception by others that I am brutal, I am masculine, I am bitch, I am cruel, I am hard, I am lawyerbot.

And the funny thing is, I see myself as soft. Tenderhearted. Hyper sensitive. Weak. Afraid. And I need to be the softer sex so badly, that a few months ago the simple act of a man putting my suit jacket on me without request or permission made my knees buckle. Small gestures feel huge to the brutal bitch that receives no gestures absent gross sexual overtures.

Affluenza is not the disease; it is a symptom of an inauthentic life. Looking back, the loathing of my feminity, my station, my everything, is apparent.

I am thirty-five. I finally recognize these mistakes. I recognize my need to change, to give up control, to let people who love me take care of me. For me to take care of me. I recognize my need to be fully genuine. I am a late bloomer, but I finally see worth in my own feminity. I credit motherhood for this.

And so, the move from firm to home feels like a beginning. A reduced caseload. Less need for money. Release of the ego that drives my particular profession. More time with my son. More home making. Something I have never done.

When a woman takes on the attributes of a man and tries to mimic the
actions of men . . . she is lost. - Tracie

Suddenly, I'm more Camille Paglia than Gloria Steinem.

You Can't Go Home Again

2009-05-10T12:59:00.003-04:00

The old Roundhouse: the Railroad started this town. Now, a place to park and drink beer.

My High School Workplace: now a liquor store.

Once the livlihood of the County, now for lease. $.99/ sq. foot.

Maybe I am thinking about this today, because my Mother and my infant Sister (along with countless generations) are both buried there. Maybe because it's Mother's Day. Maybe because I'm a bit disjointed at the moment.

I don't have a single living relative left there.

My friend Tobie, who I have known off and on since elementary school, who was a near witness to the loss of my virginity to a boy who called me "Cindy", who's mother offered to buy me a car once, and who I loved and fought in my senior year for some long forgotten reason, went to Bruceton last night. I mark this, because, most people do not believe the awful teenyness of Hollow Rock/Bruceton, it's poverty, it's small mindedness, it's prejudice. It's the place that I consider myself to be "from."

We have a love/hate relationship.

Tobie, like myself, has left. Tobie, unlike myself, now lives in St. Petersburg, Fl. And loverly loverly, I can get a flight to visit her out of Knoxville for $19 bucks. Soon. But that's another story.

I have, at times, missed Bruceton/Hollow Rock. There was a small group of people there who loved Heather and I; they tried to care for us when we had a Mother who could not. But the nostalgia was misplaced. I think what I really missed was the friends that I left there.

I ran off and joined the Navy when I was eighteen. Excepting a small stint to finish college, I never went back. Not really.

I am reminded that my High School workplace, the Blue Dip, is now a liquor store. It is unknown to me how this particular town legalized liquor in a dry county. I started there when I was fourteen. I made $3.10/hr.

I am told that methampetamine is so rampant that methodone is a common "treatment." The census says that the per capita income is $14,119.00.

The town is bankrupt.

I am told that the two traffic lights, in place to safely shuttle the Henry I. Seigel Co. traffic, are now just hanging... no lights flash. The factory, where the majority of the town worked, has moved to Mexico, leaving a huge water treatment facility for the citizenry to pay for. Elderly people cannot afford to flush too often. Someone needs to start a rain/graywater harvesting system there. Seriously.

Poverty.

I am alerted to the fact that a boy, who kissed all us girls, myself included, who had never read a book and who married his high school sweetheart, is now some sort of teacher there and also the head football coach.

Role model.

I know, that most of my friends who stayed, finished college, sometimes even got graduate degrees, now work in factories. Jobs are sparse. Eyebrows do not raise about driving fifty miles to work.

My cousin, who lives in Jackson, updates me as to who is sleeping with who. Who is strung out. Who has changed churches.

Gossip that I am not a part of. Thankfully.

Sometimes, I believe that I should go back. Help people. Court industry. Growth. And then I remember, I never really fit in. I certainly wouldn't now.

I asked Tobie last night, should we not make a documentary of Bruceton? Of teeny town life and survival? She replied, "Honestly, is it interesting enough?" Feeling like an outsider to it, I now think it is. Because most people don't know that life exists. Even I sometimes forget.

DeConstruction

2009-05-02T09:45:00.001-04:00

I love the chicks, she said.
Will you sign the petition, I said.
Of course, she said.
Have you looked at Megan's art, I said.
They're closing shop, she said.
Take a tomato from the trashball, I said.
I will, she said.
I'm closing my office June 15, I said.
Oh my god, you're lying, she said.
I'm really excited, I said.
What will you do, she said.
I don't know, I said.
I thought my life was stressful, she said.
Giggle, I said.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

:: shrug ::

2009-04-27T00:26:00.004-04:00

I think that zombies surround me. It's not just pride and prejudice and zombies. It's also me and zombies.

While it may not be the brain that they crave, there are plenty of (undead?) people willing to take a bite of your sex or your mouth or your time, or your heart (especially your heart) just to cling there, until they are satisfied and you are emptied. Cleaned. Rinse. Repeat.

Maybe I mean vapires. Or ticks. The analogy is the same.

I met a Satanist today. Surely not my first, but the first to openly declare allegiance to the dark lord in my driveway. I told him that in order to be a Satanist, he must be a Christian. As to believe in one is to believe in the other. By default. Pick your side, but it's the same war. I told him that I'm not involved with that particular war.

He asked me if I would barter to file his divorce. Religious discussion over. I like that. Barter. Over. Succinct. Practical.

And I buried a dead child possum today for a friend. I know not why my assistance was needed, just that I buried it while others watched. We gave it a brick for a headstone and christened him stinky. He smelled of the sweet sickening of rotten flesh. Deeply inhale and simultaneously gag. He will not be missed. Sometimes, I assume, it's a relief to be committed to the worms.

I fell in love 100 times today.

I have had my heart broken 1000 times today.

I sat on Gay Street, I had champagne, I discussed books, I gardened, I spoke with friends, I ate delicious food, I cooked, I mothered, I wrote, I laughed.

So full. But the zombies still make me feel empty sometimes. A hateful mirage.

A Garden: The Child of Art and Love

2009-04-25T22:38:00.011-04:00

The best place to seek [ the Goddess] is in a garden. You can dig for [her] there. ~George Bernard Shaw

On Earth Day, Silas was committed to Mama Pancha. At school, he signed an oath to commit himself as a protector of the Earth. He took this oath very very seriously for a couple of hours. So much so, that we picked up trash around his school and the neighborhood, and he demanded that I plant the garden (while he randomly stabbed the soil with the tool he found most fascinating at the moment... ).

Green onions, bell peppers, mesclun, and lemon cucumbers made it into Mama P.'s bosom before we passed out cold.

above: Peep, Whiteface, and Mowgli decide to roost and observe the Earth Day adventure once the sun set.

And then today... TODAY! Could there have been a more beautiful day to finish planting a cottage garden? And this time... I had help... Tracie was kind enough to share some plants and seeds with me ... The most exciting being pattypan squash. (I heart pattypans; they remind me of my Nanny.)

Then I drafted Shawn, who was a bit hungover, but said he would agree for "selfish" reasons after a three hour nap. (e.g. he's a fresh foodie too!)

Above: Shawn is pissed that he got stuck with boulder digging duty... the tiller just skipped over these things the past three years (as it only digs about eight inches in, while the handy dandy shovel goes at least eighTEEN inches down... and now the ground is soft enough to dig. Why? That compost has attracted every worm within 100 yards. YIPPEE!)

Above: Silas assists with the collection of poultry manure to compost and later fertilize the garden... kinda. He's learning.

Above: I heart my old iron fence that I haggled off the back of a recycler's truck at the corner of Broadway and Central. (Delivery Included) I made for quite the traffic nuisance. It makes for an adorable trellis. This is a standard green cucumber prepping for its climb. PENSIVE. Can you tell I'm obsessed with cukes?)

Above: I just wanna call this photo "Honest Hands." I love this picture.

Now, almost everything is snuggled in with the worms, clay, and the compost, the rocks are gone and will soon be used for walkways (look between and around the fences... oh lawd, the rocks!). Soon, the okra and onions will sprout, the cukes will be climbing the old fence, the tomatillos will be taking over, and we will be exercising our foodie genes.

My garden makes me happy.

Now, for the tomato ring and the herbs... tomorrow?

You don't get anywhere without being a sellout

2009-04-21T20:36:00.004-04:00

Reasons I hate he that I used to love: (ripped from the headlines of codename646.blogspot.com) (swear to god, he used to be really really awesome)

WHEN I LOVED BILLY

WHY I AM FINISHED WITH BILLY NOW

Public Displays of Art and Random Living

2009-04-18T20:55:00.005-04:00

our local grafitti artist "done" has taken our brand new overpass on 6th ave and turned it into a room of his own. we only had one box of chalk and a few hours to cosmetically enhance done's work- so we just tackled the first four pillars. that's shawn and silas sitting next to the sadness that is "done." some people are crazy enough to sign onto my harebrained ideas.

here's jon, and the four pillars. this view is looking up 6th where it hooks up with hall of fame drive. (jon blogs at www.codename646.blogspot.com and tweets @codename)

the laughing buddha was the first one finished... i promise he's laughing. some of the reactions:
- i thought i caught 'em! --cliff, concerned city worker, keeping watchout for "done"
- that's not YOUR property! -- really uptight kids, riding in the back of a car
- brandy!! that's my lawyer!! -- india, a client
- what would you charge to paint a bedroom? -- random lady whose kids need a mural
- thank you! and wow that looks better. -- knoxville police department
- that's tight. -- some thuggish kid who took our pic

what does all this randomness do to my son? he seems to enjoy it.

finito! jon surveys the work. compare with the top pic- the chalk covered so much better than we expected-- we WILL be doing this again.

Better Than Hollow Chocolate Bunnies

2009-04-10T16:20:00.004-04:00

today, i donned my best "if you can't afford the lawyer you love, then love the lawyer you can afford" tee and 10g earrings (i've had them out too long, owweeee), and headed for the co-op in maryville (where i fit in nicely). asking for silas' easter gift, they crammed four new hatchlings in a tiny box and handed them over. (believe it or not, chicks are in high demand right now, and they're selling like hotcakes. between me calling and arriving at the store, most of these had been sold. there was a crowd of chilluns around them... none of the easter dyed pinkbluegreen ones though. it was really difficult to find female chicks without ordering them through the mail...)

comic relief in cardboard. now, in the form of sheen, redbeak, whiteface, and mowgli. silas has giggled as much as they've chirped.

i keep catching silas kissing them. i have no idea whether they can survive his love. (especially since he keeps saying' "watch, i can make them dance" while he jiggles them up and down and slaps their feet against the table. they're either gonna be really tame or really dead.)

they have moved from a teeny cardboard box to a larger rubbermaid home with butterbowl lids to make it homey for the eats- that should last about three days. you can see sheen (what's with these names? sheen is jimmy neutron's best friend, i guess), top, strutting her stuff and chirping her brains out.

they are wyandottes, and when grown, should give us an egg a day, each. that's enough for us and the neighbors. i really hope they make it to the backyard.

i love them too. just gently.

Sprout!

2009-04-02T20:09:00.005-04:00

Wendy gifted Silas with a bean sprout lesson- and he LOVED it. He has been popping these things like raisins for the last two days... and they're soooooo good for him!

So, she gave him a jar, an inch or two of lentils, and card with directions. We soaked the beans overnight, poured off the water, then just allowed them to sit in the jar (rinsing twice a day). Within three days they looked like above and had more than doubled in bulk. There is no trace of the flavor of the bean once it has sprouted. Just green green yummy green.

After they reached the length we wanted, we put them in the sun to green up. Then off to the fridge. It was so interesting and fast enough that he didn't lose interest. As a matter of fact, we're doing soybeans next! (just went to the co-op today).

I can't wait to get him in the garden. Why does growing it yourself make it so much more edible? Especially to him? If I had bought these sprouts, he would turn his nose up at them- and now they're candy. hmmmm.... must put this knowledge to good use...

And now I understand why the birds keep tackling (read: destroying) my newly sprouted lettuces and spinach

Here Comes the Sun

2009-03-29T17:30:00.000-04:00

although we are all in a mud covered funk, drinking our sorrows using a straw with a hole in it, thinking "when did i agree to move to seattle?" and making that lovely little spot on the couch which fits our ass cheeks EXACTLY- spring really is almost here. and i gots springy type projects in mind.

- the new overpass on sixth ave which crosses right on washington going into parkridge has some bullshit tags on it now. if you know the "artist" DONE, please introduce me, as i would like to introduce them to wooster collective. in protest to their sad little statement, i want to stencil flowers over "done." i think if we use washable paint, there is nothing that can be done to us (fingerpaint anyone?) and it won't rinse off as it is protected by the overpass. lemme know when you're up for some late night faux crime. also, sidewalk chalk would be a welcome additive. THIS IS GONNA ABSOLUTELY RAWK. also, codename 646 wants to experiment with reverse grafitti so if anyone happens to have gallons of turpentine and/or a powerwasher...

- the hood wants to be self sustaining. this means bees and chickens. now, i myself AM placing bees on my roof and if the city decides that its ugly, or the H-1 does, i will deal with that. but, the city chickens (for fresh organic eggs) are regulated by an archaic law that finds them to be trashy. i need need need anyone and everyone who is willing to sign a (form) letter to email me. we are designing a permit system so that YOUR neighborhood need not be afflicted. MINE desires said affliction. the bourgousie chicken objections of most are untrue assumptions but still keep us from keeping a good laying hen. educational outreach needed.

- the knoxville permaculture guild is having a workshop on growing your own mushrooms soon; i will be in attendance. please join if your an eater of the fungus and YOU WILL NOT PAY FOR THEM AGAIN. oh lawd, free food is fun.

- anyone who knows FOR CERTAIN that a field or yard is not chemically treated, please let me know. dandelion collection for dandelion wine is forthcoming, but i need QUARTS of the little buggers to make it happen. the preservatives in non-organic wines hurt my belly, so i'm brewing organic on my own.

- i'm gonna be whitewashing my fence soon, and i'll assume that i'm on my own there. but, i do have beer if you wanna say hello during my tiring huck-like labor. I use this recipe.

- if you have a project that you would like me to assist in, well, lets scratch each other's backs. im kinda hard to get in touch with so email and text is best. i hate my phone!

xoxo

why i love craigs list personals

2009-03-21T20:56:00.001-04:00

found this on craigs list... not putting the link here, but if you wanna verify, search personals for "bridge troll looking for unloveable hag"

Well,I guess I should start by telling a little about myself,but I warn you...I am a horrible speller and only slightly above illerate.The English language is an infinite source
of mystery to me,as most written languages are.Grasping it is a bit like being colorblind and trying to solve Rubik's Cube in the dark while having a raging frontal lobe
migraine.In my own opinion and that of many others,I should never be viewed beneath direct sunlight.Fluorescent and incandescent bulbs arn't much more flattering to me,for that matter.As a matter of fact,you should probably don a welding helmet before ever looking in my general direction.Trust me,you'll be much happier with me in the dark.I'm just going to throw that out there in case you're one of those overly shallow people.I stand shy of 6'4" tall.I am a 250 lb.lard ass,and am practically covered
in running,open sores.I have a lazy eye,and I absorbed a twin in the womb.If you stretch my skin just right,you can see him.I named him Harold,and if you tickle his partially formed face,he'll make some guttural sounds that I like to think of as singing.I have no motivation to better myself,nor do I have any direction in my life.I am content with being at the bottom of the barrel.Truthfully,If there was a way to escape and then crawl beneth said barrell,I probably would.I suppose you can say my
adoptive mother "won" me in a game of Russian roulette.I was always known around her circle of friends as her "eternal regret".I have minimal education,and my only
outlet to the world has been the occasional urine stained newspaper I would find while sleeping in dumpsters.I think it should go without saying that I have no table
etiquette,and if it turns you away,then I don't want to meet you anyway.Despite all of this,there are some activities that I find enjoyable.My main passion in life is
traveling,and I will occasionally go all the way to the Waffle House or the Walmart.

As for what I'm looking for in a large,beastly woman...you know that hanging flabby upper arm thing?.Yeah.I love that.It just may be a deal breaker if you lack it.You should have a small amount of facial hair,thinning hair on top,and an unkempt jungle down below.You get bonus points if you have some missing appendage.I also like a girl who is missing a few front teeth and can drink thru a straw without opening her jaw.It would be ideal if you can and do eat your weight in Cheetos (the crunchy
ones,not the puffs).I love good cankle,and I love a well dressed woman.Your wardrobe should consist of mostly balloon-like shirts and brightly colored cotton stretch
pants to show off that sexy front butt.I'm not all about looks,though.Personality-wise,I usually find myself attracted to womem who will take charge in a conversation
telling wonderfully long-winded tales of incredulous bullshit while leaving not a single moment for me to get a word in.I have been accused of a fair amount of self
loathing over the years,so I guess this is understandable for me.I don't like talking about myself much anyway.I have a thing for abrasive,nasal laughter whether you
are laughing at my poorly timed jokes or merely my own pale,translucent skin and general misfortune.Either way,it's a mutual human connection,thin and fragile as it
may be.I also have a lot of respect for women trying to make it in this world,so if you have a great career,like perhaps being a vereran cook at Hardee's,then maybe we
should talk.If you think you may be the woman I've been seeking for oh so long,then I'd love to hear from you.When you send me a picture,make sure to send me the
most unflattering thumbnail sized picture you can find.

But aseriously...no fuglies.

Pirate, Patriot, and Randy Philosopher

2009-03-18T18:49:00.000-04:00

The Asheville Citizen Times confirms that Popcorn's death was by suicide. In his Ford Fairlane. Carbon Monoxide. The story is short and worth the read.

Johnny Knoxville has a video posted at his site.

:-(

Rainn Wilson's Soul Pancake

2009-03-15T17:03:00.000-04:00

I heart Soul Pancake. From uploading your napkin doodles (discuss) to debating the meaning of dreams, its filled with smart, creative people.

I had no idea Dwight Schrute was so innerestin'. His brand new brain baby is fun to play with.

Stuff to do (as opposed to stuff to chew, seriously) is my favorite part. The exercise shown here is to write your own spiritual mission statement, put it through wordle, and make it into art. Because, as Soul Pancake says, "Word art is Ultraman powerful."

So I did it.

below is the mission statement i put into wordle:

to create more than i destroy; to contribute more than i take; to remain close to the earth; to meditate on the great OM; to live simply, to be simple, to bring simplicity into my heart and embrace it fully; to fight the hardness that creeps in; to allow the softness i find to soften myself; to remain close to the earth and try daily to understand her; to appreciate the god and the goddess all around me; to open my soul to the thumbprint of others; to solve the riddle of my soul.

If you make one, could you post it or a link to it here? I'm fascinated!

I Prefer to Consider it Camp

2009-03-07T12:07:00.000-05:00

camp

/kæmp/
–noun
1.
something that provides sophisticated, knowing amusement, as by virtue of its being artlessly mannered or stylized, self-consciously artificial and extravagant, or teasingly ingenuous and sentimental.
2.
a person who adopts a teasing, theatrical manner, esp. for the amusement of others.

Since ole District 18 is representin' with ~~Conan O'Brien~~, Campy, I just read Stacey Campfield's Blog in the same macabre way that I "follow" Karl Rove on twitter- for the lulz. The one big difference being that Karl Rove, is well, smart.

Now that the Supreme Court has dissed a suit for standing, and a Federal Judge has finally ruled (and rightly, thusly, harshly) against one of the assinine lawsuits mandating that Barack Obama "produce" his GODDAMNED CERTIFICATE OF LIFE FUCKING BIRTH, WHATEVER THAT IS CUZ ALL I GOT IS A BIRTH CERTIFICATE, WHICH PUTS ALL OF MY POLITICAL ASPIRATIONS IN THE SHITTER, OH NOES, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL!!!!!!!

Oh, what was I saying? Totally lost it there with the incomplete/run-on/ annoyingly all caps sentence structure... yeah, um, Campy needs to non-suit.

I hope that Campy will start to do his job, helping the KnoxVegas, instead of continuing to attempt to get a comedy writer job. After this many years, Hollywood (or Scripps for that matter) ain't calling.

To give him credit, he does have some decent slapstick on his internets, especially when he says his O. lawsuit is an effort to "defend our President Barack Obama" and that the left is filled with "hatemongers" for not joining his prank for teevee attention. See his entry "Just Trying to Help the O." His facebook. Also.

What's that? You want to hear more about the Campy blog? Go there to see the following feats of schtick along with a bearded lady:

-1.Teachers should be armed!

-2. Aborted fetus' should get death certificates (of course creating a public record at the office of vital statistics of Tennessee women who should wear big a big red A and have all their slutty tats removed)

-3. The infamous lawsuit, made fun of the world over, is helping our preznit. He pretends not to know how funny he is, making fun of our messiah and all!

-4. Al Gore and Phil Bredesen are "pigs", cuz they use the lectricity.

-5. Solar power is a "porkulus" waste, what with all the coal and all cool clean TVA shit (my brains cannot consolidate this with #4).

-6. He hate Kent Williams (well, duh. He jus jealous of Kent's awesome merry pranksterness.)

The good news is that Campy has never supported a bill that was enacted into law. Like his "Don't say gay" campaign, cuz I couldn't laugh that off.

Saad Hussein's icky epistle FAIL

2009-02-27T12:47:00.000-05:00

Criminals is stupid. Or nuts.

A delusional Ethiopian is now the King of Dumbassery with the decision to send two letters to President Obama and one to Rahm Emmanuel smeared in HIV positive blood. Now, how ineffective is this?

A clear waste of at least $1.26, during a recession! Surely an embarrassment to the house of terrorism...

His odds of dispensing infection to the masses (or singles) this way are zero. Yes, ZERO percent. A nice smudge of Hep C would have been more beneficial, from a terrorism viewpoint and maybe he would have stood a 5% chance of spreadin' the word. If the mailroom clerk had a papercut, and/or licked the ick, that is. (Disappointingly, there are some fabulously infectious blood borne diseases indigenous to Ethiopia alone. Now THAT would have been a statement. )

Ahhh, but it was even MORE pointless than you think! This shit, according to Hussein, was a cry for help from the (U.S.) government for his HIV treatment and to get tickets to the inauguration. He hearts B. Hussein O.

And now the poor stupid bastard has been arrested. I suspect that lawmakers have yet to make "failed mailed hiv terrorism en route to presidential friendship" a crime. So, he has been charged with "knowingly sending HIV infected blood throught the mail, with intent to kill or injure another." Good luck proving that one.

This, ahem, eccentric gentleman is currently having an (unnecessary) mental health eval right now. Or as soon as they can find a translator, that is.

Karl Rove Loves Preznit, bbmumblings, Wall Street Journal

2009-02-26T00:35:00.000-05:00

My quest to offend reaches far; it reaches wide.

View KarlRove&rsquos tweet

View bbmumblings&rsquos tweet

View KarlRove&rsquos tweet

Octomommy Poverty Rebut

2009-02-25T12:29:00.001-05:00

The Intertubes and the Teevees and the ancient form of communication made from dead trees, are flooded with piss and vinegar aimed at the gigantic uterus of Nadia Suleman, nee Dowd, a.k.a. Octomommy Dearest, a.k.a. Nadya Suleiman. I can't figure out what the hell her name is.

While the personal decision to single mommyhood of a litter of younguns may be any number of negative adjectives, she's not (very) unique. Ain't it cute that her personal idol has six but wants twice that many? And ain't it lovely that Kate Gosseling has had eight through IVF? And nobody bitches about those backward ass Duggars for giving us eighteen with no signs of stopping. Jeebus.

Why?

No, Please. Don't answer that. I'm overrun with the opinions. (She's single! She used IVF! She's had funky ass plastic surgery! She asked for money online just like those beautiful fucking Duggars AND the adorable biracial Gosselings!) And all the lame ass opinions boil down to: "I hate her because she's a broke ass motherfucker."

Whoa. I hates THAT.

(The news never reports on the deadbeat dads who have sired more than fourteen, who have made no effort to support them, and who are all state supported. And trust me, in my line of work, I see that often. ~~Only women are bad for that.~~ Only poor women are bad for that. )

Hey assholes. If you hate poverty so much, do something about it. Unleash your venom on corporate welfare.

Beautiful Twunts

2009-02-22T14:10:00.000-05:00

I have only been on twitter a short time, but some very interesting phenoms in the arena of famous/kinda famous people has arisen. I follow and unfollow them once I'm bored, but this is what I see:

1. The Extremely Boring Person Who Must Have a Great Publicist Tweeter

@johcmayer
Jon Mayer tops this list. While always easy to look at, and sometimes easy to listen to, his fitness tweets are unbearable. I unfollowed upon the following tweet: 15 mins cardio, stretching, 4x25 reps lats, quads and abs. Also, pracitcing defensive sprawl on ab ball. 5 minutes cardio cool,stretch. I can see why he 's the victim of short term (only) dating of the beautiful womens. See also @diablocody talking about Rock of Love.

Upside: sometimes he tells a joke from a laffy taffy wrapper.

2. The Seriously Trying Twitter to Save/Amp Up Career Tweeter

@davenavarro6767
Going with Dave Navarro Here. Not only is there a slap fight between my friend (real, non electronic) and Dave, but Dave tweets about a hundred times a day and replies to people constantly. While it seems sweet at first, upon introspection, it's bit pathetic. My own friends (real, non electronic) don't even reply this much to ME. Wait, umm, maybe I will follow Dave after all.

Upside: so he's human, and he cares what you think. cuz without you, he can't afford eyeliner.

3. The I'm So Vain, I Bet That Twitters All About Me Tweeter

@mrskutcher
@aplusk
Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher. I had to include both, because they are so inseperable that their tweets are almost always re-tweets of one another's thoughts. And unlike sweet Dave N., they're not joining the conversation, they're teaching you! From Kabalah insight to advice on how to be kind, two of the richest and most removed people from reality will teach you how to live, properly. Also, they think everything they do is cute. Just follow. Massive TwitPics ensue.

Upside: the constant pics and video proof that this is true love and not some kinky may/december fetish.

4. The Seriously Interesting Because They're Talented and Creative Tweeters

@amandapalmer
Amanda's not touring with the Dresden Dolls but she sure as hell knows how to live. I have followed her all over Europe, including the double tweeted meeting of her and...

@neilgaiman
Neil IS awful busy tweeting Coraline, but then again, he's on a publicity tour of the world. Also, he tweets about his comic bookery, his bad hair (almost always with photo) and replies to folks a fairly normal amount. He's smart and humble. Good twittery.

@warrenellis
Okay, after this one, I promise not to list anymore artists/authors of comics. But these guys are witty and usually have something interesting to say, links to share, and an ongoing conversation to participate in. Warren probably tops most of them.

@wilw
It appears that everyone in the twitosphere follows Will Wheaton. No, it's not because he was on the tele once upon a time. It's because he's smart. And a nerd. And we get that.

To Be Nobody

2009-02-22T01:53:00.000-05:00

To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. -e.dward e.stlin

Unbeing dead, is not being alive

apathy (un lust)

Thirst better and hunger more

devour[the marrow]

The deepest secret that nobody knows

anima (screams)

Consecrated.

The Beastles and the Corner Lounge Plea

2009-02-19T16:34:00.000-05:00

I'm sending out a plea for someone to re-open the corner lounge. I promise to be a consistent patron and spend all of my expendable income (albeit small) in the joint. I mean, shouldn't it be a Big Ears venue? Won't it benefit (lots) from the new Central Corridor remake? And besides, those damned cupcakes next door would make the place the penultimate nexus of gastric sin.

If I weren't a drinker, I would do it. But alas, I need not have such easy access to the alkeehol.

And moving on, I have fallen in love. With electronic mashup. That was NOT a typo in my tweet or text... I really meant Beastles. It makes me wanna dance as much as Matisyahu's beatbox.

Fuggie the Snuggie and Need the Thneed

2009-02-15T11:42:00.000-05:00

It is the day!

It is the hour!

To exercise your purchasing power!

Fuck Mother Nature and her ilk,

We need nothing but money's sweet milk!

And well, a sweater, to swallow our heads

And a tee tiny laptop to take to bed.

These things I see I've seen before;

The Onceler told me mass sales are in store!

People all want the things sheeple have,

It's all just a matter of supply and demand!

Here's a new and improved thneed we need,

No need to move a blanket

The remote's in the sleeve!

And now we never must move our big fat asses,

We can pay someone brown to mow the grasses.

And maybe to smell the flowers too-

And hike the mountains and share photos with you!

And we can watch their adventures on tivo,

With the travel channel, who needs wheir own show?

Nor more hobbies, no more conversation

Gelatin brains rock'n the nation!

No, sit still, no need to stir

Life will still pass quick like, in a whir

And when it's done we'll all be glad

To have had all the shit that we all had.

Here are some more Thneeds that we Need:

Cooking bacon is such a chore,

Kinda like pasta- what hell is in store!

So here are the links to lighten our yoke

http://www.amazon.com/Patrick-Cudahy-Precooked-2-1-Ounce-Packages/dp/B001EQ5J9G">Pre-Cooked Bacon

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gro?url=search-alias%3Dgrocery&field-keywords=pre+cooked+pasta

And make us all happy instead of more broke.

And in case we're too tired to hold up our book,

Or tilt the light or take a look,

Here's a special helper for that,

http://www.bookholder.com/

A difficulty we can now all laugh at!

And now here's a video from The Onion,

So true that I laughed while covering the sweet ears of my youngun.

And now it's time to say goodbye

As I strap on a sandwichboard down to my thigh

Which reads "The Second Coming (of the Lorax) is Nigh!"

My Funny Valentine: Dingle and Silas

2009-02-14T12:46:00.000-05:00

I will not play at tug o' war.

I'd rather play at hug o' war,

Where everyone hugs

Instead of tugs,

Where everyone giggles

And rolls on the rug,

Where everyone kisses,

And everyone grins,

And everyone cuddles,

And everyone wins.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

Affluenza and the Economy Bubble

2009-02-12T20:07:00.000-05:00

I'm exhausted.

I got caught up.

I believed the bullshit and the hype.

I'm a sucker.

Like most everyone I know, my student loan debt from a ridiculous educational overload I did not need, approaches the national deficit. (my ex, who never went to college except to take a philosophy class with me, makes as much as me without a degree, on pure talent) In order to run up said debt, I numbed, drowned out, murdered, and chloroformed the person I was, into the person I thought I should be. Whoa. Big mistake. Most of us did it.

Then, we bought shit. And piled it in houses we were "proud" of. We needed specific clothes and specific cars, and boats and toys and decor. Sheets with a high thread count. Wine that costs more than $18 bucks a bottle. Porch furniture and fashionable landscaping. The newest electronics and muzak. A six hundred dollar purse. A seventy five dollar keychain. Two thousand dollar bicycles. Stainless steel appliances. Handmade dishes, and glasses, and vases. Marble countertops. Antique accents.

And this made things work. For awhile. And we were all rich. For awhile. And suddenly we're at the end of our ropes. The gigantic cars that GM cannot sell are being given away as severance pay. So many people opted out of blue collar work that it's all contributing to Mexico's GNP now. India OWNS our asses. America's FICO score is somewhere in the 300's. The US bankruptcy code had to be reworked in order to slow down the filings. Banks were kept running on monies from CHINA. Colleges ridded themselves of excellent professors. THERE IS NOONE TO BLAME BUT OURSELVES.

And I'm glad. The pursuit of property was fucking killing me. The naming of success as "stuff" made me nauseous (though for some masochistic reason, I half heartedly participated). Watching my small son become brand conscious was the worst.

And now I say, "What's wrong with one income families? With one car and one television? With hand-me-downs and knee patches? With gardens and sharing? With bird watching instead of television watching?" What's wrong with re-use, thrift shopping, upcycling and recycling? WHY WERE (are?) WE SO ASHAMED?

I really hope that we all "need" less. I hope this depression gives us all permission to want less. (Considering that we "need" more than 90% of the Earth's population.) I really hope we begin to judge one another on beauty and merit and creativity and generosity rather than ownership and "power."

I want to entertain you with homemade wine, garden veggies, and good conversation while wearing a dress I made from cut up T-shirts (I already have the dress; the veggies will come this summer; a neighbor offered to teach me dandelion wine making this spring). I want to let go of the pursuit of property. Let the bubble burst. We're all better off. We won't let one another starve. And maybe we can let go of "stuff" in the process.

Interesting things:

Your Money or Your Lifehttp://yourmoneyoryourlife.info/
The Story of Stuffhttp://www.storyofstuff.com/
Affluenza http://www.pbs.org/kcts/affluenza/

Fw: zoe and magna

2009-02-08T15:25:00.000-05:00

Magna and zoe

Thank you for using Picture and Video Messaging by U.S. Cellular. See www.uscellular.com for info.

si y brandy projecto de arte

2009-02-08T12:55:00.000-05:00

finally finished the obamanaug collage at shawn's this morn. ingredients: One January 20 Washington Post, three gallons of mod podge, our photos, yee haw industries, five year old intervention, some free entertainment papers from dc, the usa today from jan 20, dust, beer, and a cardboard box that once held juiceboxes. the capitol and the obamas are paper dolls from the kids' post- and even had directions to build a diorama with them. (the post in genius to get KIDS asking MOM to buy a paper... maybe they will survive the newspaper smackdown!)

Still working up the scrapbook underneath- not happy with the binding, must coptic stitch. also-all outta modpodge, glue, tape, and inspiration.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

Old West Lawyering

2009-01-26T11:17:00.000-05:00

Rogersville, TN. Witness lives in his junkyard. He got a "pumpknot" from defendant. Defendant impregnated Plaintiff 3x during her marriage to someone else. She can't be splificic-she just needed a foodbasket for the needy. Wtf?
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

Our Trip to Obamarama (with questionable captions)

2009-01-25T16:36:00.000-05:00

i recommend that you click the pix to see their ginormity

also- please call me to help me upload our video-im kinda slow and stuff

left: me, when the party's over, on the floor of the smithsonian art gallery, mall dust on ma boots, six layers of clothing, and toboggan head.

okay guys- the truth is that we all had an incredibly touching time. so much so, that writing about it just minimizes the enormity of what we experienced... so there will be none of that here. if you want to see me cry about how touching it was, and show you my painstakingly made scrapbook, take me out for a beer. (also, there are about 700 more pics) otherwise, enjoy my lack of photography skills and my demon commentary. xoxo

two hip elderly ladies who will be able to
marry one another soon!

the entrance to the first level of hell (the metro was NOT MADE TO HOLD ALL YOU PEEPS!)

my crush on hopey embarrases

people, least of all myself

wild and wacky lesbian revelers outside msnbc's protective

(and strangely fingerprintless) glass shield, worshipping

rachel maddow

what happens when your brain actually

freezes from standing in the arctic to catch

a glimpse of hopey... sad. keith still thinks that chic was trying to take him home.

robin and keith pretended to go to arlington, but sprinted across the potomac instead(posers) (this was the first indicia of the pending tour group uprising that was to come)

oh... thats our very own jumbotron! yippee! thank heavens for jumbotronic technology or else we just would have been a bunch of dumbasses standing in a field.

in an escher-esque moment, jon and i captured eternity by me taking a pic of him, taking a pic of me, taking a pic of him, ad nauseum; that eternity will have to be enjoyed by another as i have no idea whose camera i was holding.

as you can see here, we cannot tell the size of the hoards of unwashed masses of which we are a part-when i later saw the photos of the mall, i became afeared for my safety. but by then, i was already gone. also, there were no stinky people there. this may be why inaugurations are not in august.

left: people freezing their bejeebers off. and waiting. note: smiles are frozen in place.

these are a reminder of trucknutz. and of home.

here, we are watching a bunch of lithuanian men

take millions of pictures of each other in odd poses while they refuse to speak our native tongue. nashville would be horrified.

left: it was too cold for jon's camera to focus but i don't know how to delete this photo from the page.

this shot is behind us. only three hours left to wait! (out the porta potty)

here, i am trying to eat robin so that i may wear her carcass for warmth. (i learned this nifty trick from luke skywalker) you can see that she thought i was joking.

its all five am here, on the ride to DC, and we're all like forty FOUR- gangsta style and are all covered with obamatard stickers and sacrificing goats. also, i know it looks like i'm unpatriotic with that yellow tee over my underarmour, but, it DOES say "barack is my DJ"-- besides, i'm a naval veteran dammit!

note: robin is in a gang now, as made clear by her sportage of that bandanna (right behind jon's head)

food this bad only exists in maryland. our cult leader made us pretend that it was calamari because we paid her to trick us into being happy, and exert mind control over us.

look. barry smoked already. we didn't turn him "on" to it.

jon took all of these pics. jon thinks people that ride horses around dc are funny. i explained to him about our founding fathers/and horses.

more ne'er do wells, edging their way up 12th street to the mall... with all the chanting and the singing and the dancing and the very unprofessional behavior.

though we made many a sacrifice and sung many a hymn in its honor, the sun refused to make it over the capitol building any faster than scheduled... just looking at this picture makes my toes numb.

jon likes to take pictures of himself. this is probably his new myspace avatar. jon is a self proclaimed narcissistic bastard. i seconded the proclamation.

little did we know that this bus contained a cult leader who forced us to do her bidding, until the mutiny at the newseum.

penn quarter tavern: a place to cuddle and address frostbite issues

this is the potomac. of which we crossed. cuz we are all cool like george washington and stuff.

this is beau. he is our friend. he did not come with us. but we overcame the odds and found him anyway. he has now been lost to the hippie mecca of asheville, only to be seen at periodic trips to the orange peel.

this is our new blended family. we enjoyed refreshments with them and all got matching tattoos of the virgin mary holding hands with ganesha. i miss them already.

robin and keith are drunks. but i still like them. also, they may be muslim.

THAT IS ALL.

Too Cool for School!

2009-01-15T19:53:00.000-05:00

Our educational leaders in their infinite wisdom are cancelling school tomorrow, because it's (gasp) winter! http://www.wbir.com/weather/severe_weather/cancellations_closings/default.aspx

You need not buy your children toboggans! Gloves! Earmuffs!

Because well, we Tennesseeans just don't go outside when it's cold.

That is all.

A Modest Proposal

2009-01-08T18:07:00.000-05:00

I always loved Jonathan Swift, and after hearing about the PORN BAILOUT couldn't help but feel that if Larry Flynt could (would?) write he would rival (http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html)" A Modest Proposal" with his own...

From the man who called the United States Supreme Court "eight assholes and a token cunt"' , gave Americans the pink shot, and roundly offended Jerry Fallwell with a cartoon insinuating incest with Ma Fallwell (my torts professor in first year lawschool loved the case so much, he would just randomly scream out fallWELL!)- we have an awesome piece of social commentary... (Again?)

Congress "must rejeuvenate the sexual appetite of America!"
Is five billion for porn too much to ask? I mean, its not like its seven hundred billion!
"We will use the money wisely, we will create more jobs!"

Kinda makes we wanna read Hustler.

TELEVISION GOES DIGITAL IN FEBRUARY *fn1: you may be dying a slow death from arsenic, mercury, radioactive isotopes and other lovely things

2009-01-03T14:03:00.000-05:00

above: the bad news travels fast without containment; below: the ash entering the Clinch River from the Emory River.

BB: What does everyone in West Tennessee say about the TVA ash? There's a coal fired power plant near you too!

BB's Cousin: Seems like i've heard something about it...

BB: Its a big deal cuz. Seriously, everyone should be looking into how TVA is ridin' dirty.

BB's Cousin: I think I saw it once on the news here...

BB: Seriously?

BB's Cousin: I do know that TV is going digital in Febrary; now THATS all over the news.

And thus, the active and aggressive public relations campaign, coupled with the fear of job loss (everyone wants a job for TVA; it pays so well!) has essentially silenced a huge health concern for Tennesseans, Georgians, (Americans?)

Thankfully, there are active people out there like http://unitedmountaindefense.org/ have been on the ground since the day after the sludge erupted. They have been taking water samples (and paying $250.00 a pop for the testing) and getting the results much more quickly than the uber-powerful, TVA. Hmmm...

United Mountain Defense has made all of their photography and testing data available for public dissemination. Further, they invite any and all input on interpretation of that data. If you are qualified to comment on the data, the cleanup, flyash, health and safety, etc., please contact them. They need all the help they can get. (I am just a lawyer, with a lowly bachelors in zoology- I am in no way learned on these things.) Please don't forget that while they need labor, these folks also need MONEY. There is a paypal button on the UMD site.

Some photos and videos from the UMD blog, dirtycoaltva.blogspot.com:

The Emory and Clinch Rivers (a couple of weeks ago, a flyfisherman's paradise):

The TVA "police" detaining and denying access to all but those who are living with the ash:

Information on the contents (and dangers) of flyash, the contents of the water, personal stories, mounds of photos and videos, are currently available (and will continue to be posted) on the UMD website and corresponding blog. Actions needed are donations of time, money, expertise, clean potable water water water, medical grade water filters, lab analysis, and demands that this be taken seriously by locals and nationals alike. A letter dropped to local, state, and national politicians regarding our demand for clean water and TVA accountability would also be great, and some grassroots getting' out the word is necessary to overcome what has been a fantastic cover-up.

This spill doesn't just affect Roane County. The ash is moving (there IS NO containment). It's not just waterborne, it's airborne. It's not just fish it hurts, its us. (Silicosis, anyone?)

IMG00038.jpg

2008-12-30T13:39:00.000-05:00

What happens when I don't go to work...
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Twitter Tweeple and Infinite Time-Sucks

2008-12-29T18:04:00.000-05:00

I was a myspace addict. (I wish I could insert "teen" there... but I was in my thirties.)

Seriously. It started with my previous law partner's obsession with it, which I had to get in on... The giggles coming from her office inspired rabid jealousy in me, as I sat in my office, sweating over some brief or motion. I was severely lacking in the infinite time sucks at work that were giving joy to the nation.

So I went through the social networking evolution that ranges from tasteless (but hilarious!) posts, memes, and eventually blogs. I wrote blogs. (which I have now discovered, were "naked" blogs). I stalked blogs. I had a little circle of bloggers and blog readers established... when, WHAM! I became a paranoid version of my old blogging self, visions of my really bad poetry being dissimated in open court, simply because I was in the paper. Or something like that.

Delete. No more myspace blogs. No more myspace "friends." And I miss the ones I had such heated blogging discussion with. No more crossdressing Renaissance Faire performer, no more Music Exec turned writer who dropped out of the rat race to write, no more poet from New England trapped in Mississippi. Shit.

So I went to facebook. It seemed like all the grownups were there, and it provided a degree of privacy that myspace didn't. (and that I didn't really want.) And well, I cannot, cannot immerse myself in the facebook phenom. Rarely, does someone post a blog, which facebook insists on calling a "note." Rarely, does anyone post some bit of tacky comedy on my page. And never, ever, do I receive a "bulletin." Blah.

But today, an epiphany! My friends are on facebook to stalk! They're on myspace to stalk! My friends are not exhibitionists, they are voyeurs! And lets face it, the only part of facebook most folks are reading are the "status updates." So why facebook? When you can Twitter? All status updates, all the time. I'm giving it a shot, won't you?

Follow my tweets @ twitter.com/bbmumblings. I'll follow yours, wherever they are.