Belated Wednesday

...Quale occhio al mondo può star di paro all'ardente occhio tuo nero?....


Don't ask. Just go.

Tosca!


"Hey! Weren't you, didn't you, I saw you at Spotlighter's!"

Oh. In the...

"The murder mystery, the Do Or Die. You were the, the, the..."

The stammering lawyer?

"Yeah! You were a riot!"


I go as a patron, and am pegged for a player.


New comic, Dirt Farm.

Not so comic: There was a very funny image of Our Current Leader with some lights shining behind his head, looking like an empty thought balloon. It was a thumbnail of this photo. You see what I mean.


It's not socks on a rooster. It's shoes on a guide horse.


And a big thank you to Jon, for sharing LOLTrek.



(Tosca; Giacomo Puccini)

Of Interest (?)

I met a person yesterday with half a brain.*


I was guest poet/lecturer in a high school Creative Writing class today, and quite enjoyed it. We wrote poetry from the point of view of a pair of terrariumed frogs, and on the theme of velvet jackhammer. Not simultaneously. We believe we may have invented the word "dupioniance".


A billboard for ING reads: "We promise our high interest won't sneak off to Indianapolis."**




*Literally. She's doing better than a lot of folk I know who began life with the full complement.



**Only in Baltimore, where none of the Ravens players have any past or current affiliation with the city, where none of the players on either team ever played for the Baltimore Colts, or in fact, were even born in 1984, but where the inhabitants have memories huger than their hairstyles and hold grudges as naturally as crab mallets, could this quip have any sort of relevance whatever.

The Quote

"You're extremely pretty, Dr. Sattler," he said. "I could look at your legs all day. But no, as a matter of fact, black is an excellent color for heat. If you remeber your black-body radiation, black is actually best in heat. Efficient radiation. In any case, I wear only two colors, black and gray."

Ellie was staring at him, her mouth open.

"These colors are appropriate for any occasion," Malcolm continued, "and they go well together, should I mistakenly put on a pair of gray socks with my black trousers."

"But don't you find it boring to wear only two colors?"

"Not at all. I find it liberating. I believe my life has value, and I don't want to waste it thinking about clothing," Malcolm said. "I don't want to think about what I will wear in the morning. Truly, can you imagine anything more boring than fashion? Professional sports, perhaps. Grown men swatting little balls, while the rest of the world pays money to applaud. But, on the whole, I find fashion even more tedious than sports."

-Michael Crichton, from Jurrasic Park

....Year 2000....

"...in the Year Two Thousand...Hugh Hefner will brag that he still has sex with 'Playboy' Playmates, though he will now define 'sex' as allowing someone to chew your food for you...." --Conan O'Brien

You did not!

"Mmm hmmm. For about a year. We lived together, actually. Then I found out he had cheated on me, and I just never could get past that."

I guess I was part of that chain. I ran around with him the summer before college. He had a girlfriend I never met.

"So there it is. Unfaithful from puberty."

Evidently. Please tell me he was lousy in bed.

Her face contorts into an 'oh, this is gonna hurt' expression.

"Actually he was pretty good."

Damn.

So much for the past.

Let's look ahead, shall we?

One of my favorite futurists, Orson Scott Card, is holding writing workshops in the future: this summer. One day in the future, I might have time to myself again... hope I'm not dead by the time that happens.

The Animal's column features that once and future evil, Fuckin' Diebold.

He spoke at JHU on bioethics yesterday, so that's in the past, but I predict more Michael Crichton in my future. I mean, please, a quote from Ian Malcolm changed my entire wardrobe, forever.

I hate to think that 'l33t' might be the language of the future, because OMFG, it suxr0xz.

Laughter in your future? A very special comedy tour.

Finally,Tim Kreider wonders why future generations will hate us.

In my future: cooking breakfast. Shopping for things I don't want. Bemoaning my fate. Driving topless.

The future looks good after all.

...got a crazy teacher, he wears dark glasses/ things are going great, and they're only getting better...


(The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades; Timbuk 3)

Caffine Dream

...I've got myself lost/ I was writing to tell you/ that my feelings tonight/ are a stain on my notebook....

I dreamed
of a woman who walked away
after I had responded sharply
to her stupid question.

I called
to her with apology on my face
and explained I hadn't been
feeling myself lately.

I took
from her the cup she handed
to me, half full of coffee
all pale with cream and cooling.

I watched
as she smiled in sympathy, patted
my hand and walked away again, gentleness
in her stride.

I sipped
at the creamy sweetness, marvelling
that it changed in my mouth
from lukewarm to icy cold, dark and bitter

just the way I like it.

(Black Coffee In Bed; Squeeze)

Write Now

...songs that make the whole world sing/ I write the songs of love and special things....

It seems I'm going to be a mystery surprise guest at MWA's Annual Conference. [Aside: website mysteriously down at this very moment.]I found out on Sunday, finalized on Wednesday, and thought to post it...oh, just about twenty minutes ago.

Now, I don't think I alone am worth the $120.00 ticket, (well, maybe I do, but not for this) but if this tips anyone over to the 'sure, why not' point, I thought it was worth a mention.

My blurb and bio are not on the website (as indeed practically everyone who is speaking are also not) so for your edification, I present them here.

The Poet's Toolbox
Have you ever thought "Oh, I could never write poetry"? Cybele says it isn't so! Every writer has all the tools necessary to create poetry. Come learn what you don't know you already know, participate in guided exercises, and create a poem in class. The scheduled Q&A segment may have to make way for open mike!

Instructor Bio

Cybele Pomeroy writes poetry because writing plays earned her too much money to qualify as a starving artist. Cybele has been teaching literature, drama and performance art for ten years, and has been employed as a costumer, makeup artist, editor, waitress, stiltwalker, lead writer, Tupperware lady, sign painter, and shadow dancer. She admits to being rabid about punctuation.

Cybele appears frequently in Do Or Die Productions interactive murder mysteries (dodmystery.com) and she took third place in the 2005 poetry contest, with her poem "Love Is...", which was about coffee. Her poem "City Plows, Broken Or Not" appeared in the literary magazine Scribble, Volume Five, Issue 2 1/2.

Cybele's future goals include spending time as a limousine driver, bartender, archaeologist and golf caddie, though not simultaneously.

If you check the schedule, I am the first 'TBD' on the left at 9:45.

The sun, naturally, will come out, while I am indoors. With writers of such brilliance that I will need sunglasses anyhow.

I mean, Moira Egan, people!

(I Write The Songs; Barry Manilow? no. Frank Sinatra? no. Bruce Johnston.)

Inappropriate? Me?

...don't mean to piss you off with things I might say/ but when I try to shut my mouth they come out anyway/ if you spoke your mind you might feel more connected....


I walk into one of my usual haunts. J is talking to J, in the middle of a sentence, but she looks up, nods, smiles to acknowledge me.

"....should've locked the whole place down after the first shots were fired at 7 am. That would've been the thing to do. Cybele agrees with me, don't you, Cybele?"

I shrug.

Meh. Those damn kids prob'ly needed killing.

J and J stare at me, open mouthed, for two whole beats.

And then simultaneously burst into laughter.

Such is my world.



(Politically Correct; SR-71)