Sunday, August 31, 2008

some kind of joy

Has slithered up into my life out of nowhere. I don't understand it nor do I care to. I am so happy to be blissed out, every molecule up in me is humming. I'm more at peace with my writing and my life than I have been in a long time. I had a crazy couple of weeks there and spent a lot of time, literally, on the floor, asleep. But the wildness seems to have passed and I am doing well.

I signed up for Couchsurfing last week to see what the hype was all about and I have had a great time. This weekend I hosted three different international travelers who slept in my spare room and on my sofa. A couple from France and a woman from Germany. They were all super cool and we had some truly phenomenal conversations. It was nice to remind myself that it is easy to connect with certain people. I often close myself up and stay in my isolated bubble of work, Vagabond Kitchen and living it up lazy in South Park. But hosting these visitors has been a beautiful experience. I feel like I actually forged friendships that can enhance my life.

I had a bit of food aggression this weekend from a raw egg I ate in some pasta. Raw egg is not so good. Keep that in mind.

So, things are good. Here is a pretty little ditty I dig.

Canyon Ride
Beachwood Sparks

Saturday, August 30, 2008

goodbye summer, thanks for the memories!

DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince

It has not been all good but it has been interesting.

Friday, August 29, 2008

what the body needs


I have been depriving myself of sleep lately for some odd reason. I also wake up every morning at 4am and stay up for about half an hour then go back to sleep. My acupuncture guy says that 4am is the hour of the lungs and that lungs are the organ of grief and I must have grief moving through my body at that hour. All I need, sad lungs.

I have been writing and reading. I am excited about writing again, one of these exhilarated stages where words are moving through me and everything in the world is right. I have poems in the mail and stories I am editing. I'm toying with the alleged novel and working out some issues I've had with characters and plot. I now have a bad guy and he is Bad. Yes, with a capital B.

La Celula Que Explota

I have a long standing crush on the lead singer of Caifanes, Saul. He is my goth dream man with beautifully strange teeth and a bone structure I want to give birth to. I want him to sing this song to me at night in the desert among iguanas and other spiny creatues that know about survival. Hay veces que quisiera ahogarte en un grito. . . "There are times I want to drown you in a scream." Ok, fine by me.

I read a terribly bad book a couple of weeks ago that is on the NYT bestseller list for fiction. It pissed me off. The writer, I believe, should have some responsibility to the reader. We are giving hours of our lives to your story, your characters, your vision. You have created a world for us to lose ourselves in. This writer had no idea what she was doing and at the end of the book delivered such a blow to me, that I threw the book across the room. Everything I had read, up until that point, had been a lie. It was such a shameful way to end the book; as if the writer didn't know how to end it so she chose the easy way out. No responsibility at all to the reader. No way to redeem her characters or the story they were telling. Bullshit. I was not a happy reader.

I have not been the healthiest person lately but I have been happier than I have been in a long time. Odd.

Oh and I have a stalker.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

bad girl!

No, not in that sense. Bad blogger. It has been a good thing since it means I have been busy. I have been reading a lot and doing a bit of writing Organizing poems. I have a lot to say and write about on this blog but I just haven't had the time to do it. Reminders to myself: cold oven; fantasy; the border patrol. Stories to be told and considered. I will return, soon and with a surrender I haven't allowed myself in way too long.

This Lonely Love
Juliana Hatfield

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

happy dance

Bucky Done Gun

A few weeks ago my ex-cat finally caught a bird. He was so happy he played with the dead bird for hours, tossing it in the air and catching it again to replay the moment when he finally fulfilled his birthright as predator.

Yesterday I felt like my ex-cat after he finally caught the bird. I have been struggling for nine months (yea yea symbolism) to get back into the poetry. I've written plenty of prose, worked on the alleged novel, edited plenty of old poems but no new poesia was forthcoming. Until yesterday. I finally wrote a poem and today feel like I am made of wings. What a fantastic feeling. Joy! Joy slightly smudged because of the hangover; celebrating my joy with wine was a fine idea until the old Portuguese tuna fisherman at the bar kept buying me drinks. Ooof.

Monday, August 4, 2008

morning, yeah yeah yeah

Please please please
James Brown

I have been a terrible blogger lately. Please please please don't give up on me. I get into my distractions which usually are books and wine. But such good distractions they are! I also have been doing the real kind of writing and submitting I'm supposed to be doing as a writer, so that is a good thing. So up and down!

I've bee dreaming of fonts ever since watching Helvetica Saturday night. How truly odd to dream about fonts. And the plague too.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

I can't help it!!

Sill Loving You
The Scorpions

I LOVE this song. I go nuts when it comes on. It makes me want to play air guitar. It makes me want to put the top down on my car and drive fast across the desert (if I had a convertible). It make me want to take my hair down, shake it out and bang my head in time to the music. The guitar solo at the end is fantastic.

An interesting week in Lizz land. Ups and downs, clarity and disillusionment. This has been a hell of a year in my life. But not bad, just a hell of a year.

Friday, August 1, 2008