Posts (page 2)
Lately it's been heavy
all my friends have been in trouble by the pound
And they're spread out
and there is only so much of me to go around
Asking how things are going to go is like asking, "What's the shape of water?"
The condition is not the process is not the outcome is not the aftermath
Lately it's been harder
to stay present and not drift too far out of reach
What keeps me focused
is knowing the moment has so much to teach
Asking how things are going to go is like asking, "What's the shape of water?"
The condition is not the process is not the outcome is not the aftermath
The shape of water depends on the shape of the container you carry it in
The shape of water depends on the shape of the container you carry it in
The shape of water depends on the shape of the container you carry it in
The shape of water depends on the shape of the container you carry it in
I don't think I've said anything about it up to now, and there's only (as of today) 9 1/2 weeks left.
I just read Mudflats' "What is McCain Thinking? One Alaskan's Perspective." In it, she says:
[...] Listen to John McCain and you'll hear about a maverick reformer who took on big oil, took on corrupt Alaska politicians, and whose ethics are unquestioned.
Alaskans really want to like Sarah Palin. In a state where corruption is the rule, and the same faces keep recycling over and over and over again like a bad dream, a new face, with a promise of reform seemed like a breath of fresh air. Palin defeated incumbent governor Frank Murkowski (father of Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski who he appointed to his own Senate seat when he was elected governor) because he was such an obnoxious, bloviating, downright BAD politician. This staunchly republican state voted with relief, not having to cross over and vote Democratic, but still able to get Murkowski the hell out of office. In the general election Palin swept into office running against a former Democratic governor, Tony Knowles, who was capable but came with baggage. And he represented to Alaskans more of the same, tired old-style politics, and special interests that we have come to loathe.
So, if McCain had made his selection six months ago, the squeaky-clean governor meme would have made a little more sense. But, Sarah Palin is currently under an ethics investigation by the Alaska state legislature. [...]
See, six months ago, it was pretty hard to tell the lineup of Republican presidential candidates apart -- even with a scorecard. So when I tweeted a friend a Publius Pundit vice-presidential poll, he said he was rooting for someone he thought could govern: Christopher Cox, for his conservative bonafides, relative youth and ability to shore up McCain's economic flank.
He asked me who I thought had a shot, and I told him I thought the nod would be more about campaigning than governing: "Whitman, Hutchison, Rice, Watts, Jindal, Powell, Palin, Blackburn, [Elizabeth] Dole, Steele." Of those, my friend said he thought only Watts had enough experience but lacked the desire.
I didn't give the issue any more serious thought until this morning. I'd assumed McCain wouldn't give in to his long-shot leanings. I was wrong.
Today, my friend asked me what I thought of Joe Biden. I said "Meh. I'd hoped he'd double-down on change (Bayh/Kaine) or pick
Hagel or Powell or Richardson, but I'm pleased he didn't pick Clinton." I think we can all see pretty clearly what not-picking Clinton yielded.
hard time telling the truth where the truth ends and the play-acting
begins. Sometimes we act like a regular couple and do normal couple-y
things; sometimes we have really fun, playful sex. And then sometimes
we get into this other thing. [...]"
Andy Ohio's "Tied Down"
So, like, what's up with that other thing? More to the point: Were you in a playful mood the last time you had sex with someone?
I'm not talking about "playful" as in "kittenish," much less "monkeying" or "horsing" around. (Save your human/animal roleplay jokes for now, m'kay?)
I'm talking about the state of mind that has to do with gleeful improvisation, glistening wetness and gleaming smiles, glowing pleasure in the moment and getting a grip on (or getting gripped by) a willing partner.
The latest book to remind me of that delightful state, that pleasant periphery in which ludic languor lives, is Rachel Kramer Bussel's anthology of short stories. (Full disclosure: I received a review copy in exchange for a promise to write a review and post it to the book's Amazon.com listing.)
Each story is not just a rude and randy recitation of body-part motion-capture that one might plot on a graph with as little difficulty as one might play buzzword bingo with nearly any politician's boilerplate address.
It's also not just a collection of completely unlikely or implausible scenarios (airplane bathrooms, department-store dressing rooms, college classrooms, graveyards, etc.). It's called wishful thinking, not fantastic (in that other sense of the word) thinking. Maybe it's just my own imagination, but situations where a few words gone awry result in a gauntlet thrown down and then taken up sound not just likely, but like good ideas (as in Thomas S. Roche's "Pre-Party" and Kramer Bussel's own "The Depths of Despair").
It's why I'm willing to go along with Shanna Germain's "Perfect Bound" with its library-look protagonist, bookstore-cum-flytrap setting and delightfully unexpected uses for certain old-school office supplies, or Alison Tyler's "Betty Crocker Gone Bad," which turns a domestic quirk into the kind of escapade that might get left on a cable-cooking-show cutting-room floor, or Madeline Glass' "Laser Tag," which makes the best out of bad behavior at a concert and the resulting cute-meat meet-cute.
By the time you've dropped in on the grownups-go-back-to-high-school scenario of Madlyn March's "Reunion," the barn settings (yes, if you must, perhaps now's the time for your roleplay jokes) of Thomas Christopher's "Riding the Storm" and L. Elise Bland's "The Breeding Barn," you're probably several turns of the screw into certain physical symptoms that result from the consumption of well-written erotica. You probably won't even mind the workplace-turnabout triptych of Fiona Locke's "Pink Cheeks," Laura Bacchi's "Page By Page" and Simon Sheppard's "Fiscal Discipline."
Make a point of checking this book out wherever you get your hands on it, and you'll soon concur that the only thing better than bending over a well-told tale is, well, bending over a well-toiled-over tail.
(inspired by Sarah Dopp)
If gender hath its own geometry,
its Euclidean arc the eye can mark,
then the non-Euclidean girl or guy
may also some new queer discussion spark.
If boddhisattva be what you are called,
it's not a label I'd consider dumb
for those Nirvana-bound are not at fault
for existing in that continuum
So those who classify and catalog
all people as they live and love and play
with every Twitter or post to their blog
they doth inform and lighten others' way,
thus broader bound be how we all exist,
how we are kith and kin, but also kissed.
This year's Bike To Work Day wouldn't've been the same without her.
"This would be so much more satisfying online! 'Sensitive thugs, y'all need blogs.' Or Second Life, or something."
Am9 Fmaj7 Dm9
Don't start a rumor
Don't listen to talk around town
Show good humor
And act up when life looks down
Dm9 Em9 arpeg
Me, I never built my world around them
Not that my reserve remained unspent
Gave me something beautiful to long for
Gave me something to learn to repent
I never built my world around them
Not that my caution spared me pain
Gave me a cushion for my landing
Gave me some kind of understanding
Amaj9 Amaj9/F# Fmaj7 E/D
We're just boys
We're not from another planet, are we?
So let's go be hearty
I'll teach you how to talk to girls at parties
Dm9 Em9 arpeg
You, you never made it look that easy
To open up the lines of communication
Sending out a hailing frequency signal
Flawlessly field a shore-leave situation
You never made it look that easy
To get that it was way beyond me, chum
Getting me sum was more than addition
Getting down the ins and out of tradition
Amaj9 Amaj9/F# Fmaj7 E/D
We're just boys
We're not from another planet, are we?
So let's go be hearty
I'll teach you how to talk to girls at parties
Am9 Fmaj7 Dm9
Don't start a rumor
Don't listen to talk around town
Show good humor
And act up when life looks down
I believe in engines you can calibrate with instruments
I believe that we should have found a way to unite
A way to harness large forces to our tiny desires
I overshot you
I overshot you
I'm out of your orbit
I'm not better for it
I overshot you
I believe in politics (just enough so I don't get sick)
I believe in the better world despite what I been told
I believe everything possible will come to be in time
A day will return when I am yours and you are mine
I overshot you
I overshot you
I'm out of your orbit
I'm not better for it
I overshot you
This home I inhabit is just an unlikely hovel
Instead of my long-hoped-for science fiction novel
I believe in afterlife (others' memories no pearly gates)
I believe nighttime prayer cuts my long-distance rates
I believe that we should have found a way to unite
A day will return when I am yours and you are mine
I overshot you
I overshot you
I'm out of your orbit
I'm not better for it
I overshot you
