DOWN WITH COFFEE

I've got a monkey on my back and his name is Juan Valdez! (Thank you Jack McFarland)

I am currently suffering from not only a case of the marital fuck-its but also a scorching case of OCD (Obsessive Coffee Disorder). I refuse to even tally up the amount of money I've spent in the last week on coffee and miscellaneous coffeehouse crap. Between Starbucks, Murdoch Perk, Borders, Barnes & Noble, Wired Coffee, and Kaldi's, I could have supported several families in Myanmar. This makes me a complete asshat. So I have been attempting to do more of the grind here at home.

The Fates are not happy.

The other night when I totaled my flash drive, what was I doing? Returning from the kitchen with a fresh cup from the Cuisinart (thank you, Fana). Disaster. Last night, while heading back with a cup of coffee from the kitchen, guess what? ANOTHER BIGGER MORE TREACHEROUS DISASTER!

Kids, this totally sucks ass because it happened on a total FUCK-IT Day. I heard running water as I came down the upstairs hallway with my coffee. I peaked into the upstairs bathroom to see if maybe LD had been playing with the faucet or something. NO SUCH LUCK! Instead, I heard water hitting the bathroom floor as a large puddle began to spread across the tile.

The fucking toilet tank (CLEAN WATER PEOPLE!) cracked. I immediately went into home-improvement superheroine mode and attempted to shut the water off at the wall. The damn valve got stuck. So I shoved a bucket under the crack and ran to grab the phone to call my dad (thank God he only lives a few miles away) because, after all, Hubs was at work at 1 AM. And then I heard the second crack in the tank. All I could think was "HOLY SHIT, KIDS! GRAB YOUR LIFE VESTS!"

It was hell. HELL, I SAY! The water ran down between the walls and into the basement, so I had that clean-up to deal with in addition to the water all over the bathroom floor. Bonus - even my dad struggled to get the water shut off, so I don't feel too badly about my lack of LONE WOMAN AT HOME IN CRISIS MODE POWER.

So much for that tax return.

Fuck the home brew. Got to go see Jared and Rob at Starbucks. MUST HAVE COFFEE...

I'm out.

Burning the Midnight Oil. Also: GAH!

OK. The original title I had picked earlier for this post was "Inner Peace." Let the irony of this not be lost on you. And then hell, handbag... you get the picture.

I was going to ask all of you Internets if you were of the opinion that I should add yoga (peace = balancing chakras) or kickboxing (peace = I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS) to my fitness program. However, my sister has informed me that kickboxing is a better approach for my current level of stress. Who knew?

SOOOOO - burning the midnight oil. Yeah. The number one rule of writing when using a PC is to have your working copy, a back-up copy, and a hard copy AT ALL TIMES. Guess who got lazy and didn't triple check to make sure that her GHOSTWRITING PROJECT was saved in two different locations? And she didn't print a hard copy because she was so close to the end that it would have been wasting paper? And then proceeded to leave her office to get another cup of coffee to finish up? And then came back into the office and

BROKE HER FUCKING FLASH DRIVE WITH HER FOOT AS SHE SAT DOWN!!! GAH!

Yeah. Sweet deal, eh?

You totally wish you were me right now. I just know it.

And for Tessie: This is why all of my personal stuff is in notebooks. I kick it old school.

The 100th Post

Really? No shit?! Yes, this is the 100th post. Can I get a HELL YEAH??? Although, I've been a deadbeat blogger as of late, so perhaps I owe you bitches an explanation.

I'm taking on an array of projects these days and am allowing them to occupy the white space that should be filled with how to deal with some Major Bullshit. I won't fill you in on the details of said bullshit here; let's leave that for the Pink Apartment I'm working on renting. WHICH, I may add, I would already be living in EXCEPT that [other blog site] won't let me FUCKING LOG IN ALREADY! Ahem. So, I present for your viewing pleasure, the list of projects (i.e. Tools of Bullshit Avoidance) which keep me running full speed from my worries:

1) my own writing
2) collaborating with artist Sharlene Kindt
3) street teaming for Jason and the Beast
4) editing and potentially ghostwriting for, well, a "ghost"
5) starting up a web zine (I registered the domain, but nothing's built yet)
6) potentially writing lyrics with my brother
7) attending every poetry reading possible in the metro area

Aside from these things, I am still Chief Executive Nose-Wiper and running a household of 3 (plus one large irreverent dog).

So, yeah, I'm fucking busy. But it's how this game is best played for me. I need to get back on here every day, firstly because you wenches ROCK and secondly because I hate missing the damn party. I'm still short on snark and sarcasm. FUCKING GAH!

If anyone can find where I left that box of FUCKING HILARITY, please drop it by. And leaving it on the stoop with a bottle of Grey Goose would be extra groovy. Oh, the hell with it. Just make it Mad Dog. These are tough times.

Theme Song

These lyrics caught my ear the other day. I think they speak to a lot of the transition I'm going through at present. "Hopeless" in this sense doesn't refer to anything truly dark or anything. I think it's more of the sense of the remark that people make when you up and rearrange your life because you know it's what you need to do. Without further ado, I give you the lyrics to KT Tunstall's lyrics, with the especially relevant parts in bold...

KT TUNSTALL LYRICS
"Hopeless"

Hopeless
Everybody says it's just another decay of the soul
But I know I'm a hopeless follower of anything to take me
Away from this hole in the ground
I found it's hopeless clinging to a feeling
Like a fish on a line, so blinded by the lately
Hopeless, no more saying that there's no more time.

I've was trying far too hard
To be what I thought I should be
I was playing wild cards and
Seeing things that weren't in front of me
Like a little tiger, play fighting,
I was hurting myself, again and again
Because I'm hopeless.

That there's no more time.

Well I'm just discovering
I'm living in a different body
Caught a little insight into everything thats happening to me
Like a little spider, I'm climbing the insurmountable
But I'll never hold myself accountable, no.

'Cause I'm hopeless.
Everybody says I'm hopeless
But I got a bit of hopelessness
Oh and you can never bring me down
Even though I've got some silent ground
Oh because I love it so
And I think you should know
Because I'm hopeless.

Everybody says it's just another decay of the soul
But I know I'm a hopeless follower of anything to take me
Away from this hole in the ground
I found it's hopeless clinging to a feeling
Like a fish on a line, so blinded by the lately
Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless

No more saying that there's no more time.

"I feel the earth move...

...under my feet." Not like THAT, jackasses. Please. The only earth-shaking going on in this house is that which is caused by tectonic plates in an underground street fight. Seriously.

Yes, internets, we felt the earthquake here in The Lou in the wee hours of the morning. I think it was around 4:30 AM. I was sort of in a sleepy haze, but I remember my heart was racing and I woke up. I thought I was having a panic attack with all of the shaking. I laid in bed for a second and then I heard a picture frame and a metal vase start hopping around on my dresser. It was the same kind of my-bass-canon-is-rattling-my-trunk unsettling noise that I recall from high school (and now wish that I could recreate in my yuppie ride). By the time it really sunk in that we were experiencing an earthquake, it was over. I checked the house and everything appeared to be okay, except for the pictures on the walls.

Talking to my dad this morning, I learned that the whole showdown was more powerful than I thought. He said he could hear the roof cracking and popping and creaking. THAT IS SOME CRAZY SHIT. I mean, come on - the damned ROOF!

Well, that's about it. I'm trying to get back in the groove for you all...

Edited: It's 10:16 AM and we just had an aftershock...

I'm not dead. I repeat, I'm not dead.

Just wanted to pull up a seat here in my virtual spot and let you all know I'm still around. Many thanks to those of you who've e-mailed and asked where I've been. Get ready, because I don't usually let this out online, but I'm having a moment...

Beneath the snark, sarcasm, and intentional gratuitous swearing of yours truly, there lies a woman with an expansive soul, a huge heart, and deep faith (yes, in God). For those of you who've been with me a while, you know that I've been going through a lot of transformation since I began this blog. The mind-body-spirit connection has become paramount to my life - I run, I write, I ask God a lot of questions. I'm learning to accept that life is a much more complicated beast than previously thought; however, I don't think it needs to seem impossible to navigate.

I've seen life quite differently since the birth of my daughter three years ago. I've faced a lot of challenges and changes in these past three years. I want to take a moment to send out my undying thanks to a whole alphabet soup of friends who have loved me beyond the realm of any human understanding. You are the mainstays of my heart, and I love you dearly. You know who you are.

Also, to my blogger bitches - I think of you all lots and check in daily. You make me smile. Thanks for being out here in the blogosphere, hanging out as the really cool bitches (gratuitous profanity for your pleasure) that you are.

And lastly, to a group of truly inspirational people in the literati and ANTI-literati circles who've taken me under their wings. I don't know if you'll ever know how much that means to me. My dreams have life because of you. Whatever you need to further your career, I'm your girl. Call. Ask. You will not be denied.

I'll be back on with some snarkiness as it becomes readily available. Until then, peace and love...

We Interrupt This Birth Story...

We interrupt this birth story to bring you National Poetry Month. YAY! While I'm sure that I couldn't convince most of you to carry a poem in your pocket this month to read when and wherever the mood strikes, I will instead encourage you to learn a little about the craft of poetry. Wash from your mind the brain-numbing bullshit you learned in high school. Build a new understanding of what is considered by many to be a dying art.

For a lot of people, poetry is sort of this black hole into which all sorts of writing is dumped. I concur that this is quite the case in our current culture. However, there is a very real background to poetry and its creation. For some, it's a natural gift. For others, it's a learned skill. I liken it to those who can play the piano by ear and those who have to take lessons - both make music, some instinctively and some out of practice. I don't want to bore you with the didactic snobbery of it all, for that is the shit that makes most people give up on poetry before they ever even have the chance to discover the intricacies with which it is created. And that's a damn shame.

Poetry is continually evolving. There are always new forms in development. There are new rules created by poets. There are awesome combinations of poetry + insert-just-about-anything. And on that note, I'll take a moment to set you up with some links to some cool shit going on with poetry.

Hip-Hop and Poetry - Jason and the Beast
This cat is a Lou local. You've never heard Shakespeare like this. And his own lyrics kick ass, too. I know you bitches will be dancing in your cubicles. Web shout to JASON!
Poetry Chicks Will Dig - Kim Addonizio
You'll want to be her best friend/wine drinking bitch.
Poems for Every Occasion
If you're bored at work, check this out.
Poetic Forms and Techniques
This list is SHORT and leaves off some good stuff. But, hey - it's a fairly snot-like literary site. What would one expect???
Anthologies
Knowledge is power. Learn by reading.


I could go on and on, but I'll stop here. If you've got any poetry questions/thoughts/frustrations about the whole art form, post them in the comments. I'd love to get a discussion going...

NIKE HALF-MARATHON UPDATE: Unfortunately, The Dirty Thirties were not pulled in the lottery to run in San Fran this fall. BOO HISS. So my bitches and I are on the hunt for a different one to run...