bronze_ribbons: yoshizumi flying off cliff (yosh37 yoshizumi off cliff)
... when you see a New York Times piece about the fish market's imminent move ...

... and your first reaction is, "Oh, saints and gills, that's going to complicate what I might yet get around to writing."

And your second reaction is to swat away the hordes of plotbunnies suddenly swarming around your ankles with each new paragraph.
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (DelPo on verge of oh smash)
The Cubs are inflicting the usual dose of October heartache/heartburn, so I'm going to pickle carrots instead. (There's also work to get through, but staying away from monitors for the next few innings seems like a good idea.)

There seems to be no escaping Thoreau today, albeit in texts that address the mythologizing of him. In Mark Caldwell's The Last Crusade: The War on Consumption, 1862-1954, his death from tuberculosis is presented as an example of a 19th-century tendency to cast such deaths as gentle, pure goings-into-the-good-night -- an erasure of what one could argue were the victims' true personalities (vigorous, worldly, earthy) when they were healthy. And Dawn Potter relays Katherine Schulz's observations about Thoreau, including thought-provoking comparisons of Walden to Prospect Park (neither being all that off the grid) and Thoreau to Laura Ingalls Wilder (fictional vs. real isolation).

(An extra layer to this, which I only just remembered: I'm attending a wedding later this year in Prospect Park... and the groom and the officiant and I participated together in a mock trial about thirty years ago where I was drafted to portray Thoreau. "But I haven't read any Thoreau." I forget how our classmates persuaded me that a quick trip to the library would give me enough to improvise with, but I vaguely recall them managing to make contrarian-ness sound like a compliment, and they later reassured me when my Thoreau turned out to be a terrible witness on behalf of Socrates [who was once again sentenced to death], because what I'd said as him was in character.)

Signal boost: 7x20 is seeking tweet-sized pieces by women and writers of color. Non-paying market.

On a related note, I'm the featured poet at 7x20 this week. So far:

Code Name Taurus...
Persian calligraphy

*peeks at scoreboard* FFS, Cubs. OK, I'm off to do some violence to root vegetables.
bronze_ribbons: (hooch boots)
Near Strasbourg Cathedral

The subject line is from Fleur Adcock's "Kissing," which begins, "The young are walking on the riverbank," which immediately had me thinking about Paris in May 2009, where there were some lovely strolls along the Seine.

Even so, 2009 was a crucible of a year. When things get stupid intense these days, I sometimes think back to 2009, and then I say, "Ha! 2015, I am armed. I have survived gnarlier years than you!"

Among other things, 2009 was when I hauled two laptops with me around the Czech Republic and France and sucked down litres of soda while whaling through work that couldn't wait:

working some more

working in reims

But I made time for some sightseeing anyway. These shirts in the window of a Strasbourg kiddie clothing shop window reminded me of the tentacle crowd:

in a strasbourg shop window in a strasbourg shop window

And now, like then, there will be doting on doggies:

French train station
bronze_ribbons: Sveta kissing her French Open trophy (Kuz kiss)
container basil

I wrapped up a big deliverable last night (yes, it was a US holiday, but you know what they say about freelancing -- you can work any 60 hours of the week you want...), and I have been correspondingly useless today -- which is okay, because there are worse fates than harvesting basil leaves for pesto while watching Wimbledon and ultimate frisbee on ESPN3.

Also, my crush on Jody Adams continues:

Something that leapt out from a recent NYT interview:

Early on, some guy kept hitting on me and when I said I wouldn't go out with him, he said, "You must be a lesbian." A young stupid kid hit me on the butt, and I said, "Don't ever do that again." And he said, "You tempted me." I have no tolerance and I fight. We have to teach women to do that. The first time someone crosses the line, we have to stand up and say, don't do that.

I don't know if I can get myself to Boston next June (the Early Music Festival is producing three Monteverdi operas, and a friend just announced the birth of his third child, and I haven't seen [personal profile] marginaliana since 2008, and ... the reasons are plenty, but we'll have to see how all the other moving parts shake out), but Rialto/Trade are definitely on the list. In the meantime, the blog produced by Jody and her husband is a splendid thing, and I hope to make the kale salad with plums, roquefort and walnuts soon.

In writing news, I just received my contributor's copy of the 2015 Texas Poetry Calendar, which includes my poem "Texas Instruments" (which, being a poem about my daddy, appropriately appears opposite the page for the week of Father's Day). Whee!
bronze_ribbons: yoshizumi flying off cliff (yosh37 yoshizumi off cliff)
(1) UK journo assumes Esther Lee (the physical therapist for the Williams sisters) is Li Na:

(2) Yesterday, I was mistaken for a church chaplain ... who happens to be the other Taiwanese American woman in my congregation. This happens several times a year, even though she is shorter, younger, and doesn't wear glasses. Moreover, my hair is green.
bronze_ribbons: Kimiko Date Krumm fistpump @ Seoul 2009 (Kimiko fistpump)
[The subject line's from Allen Ginsberg's The Lion for Real]

A downside to being an adult: having to say no to picnic plans because copyediting comparative lit crit is currently kicking my butt.

An upside to being an adult: I am currently baking banana-cardamom-rum-chocolate-chip bread. Because the bananas were ripe, and because I can.

Another downside: more mourning. The price of becoming fond of more people.

Another upside: friends sending Smooch Lions!


In today's mailbox: the newest issue of UU World, which includes my poem "Proportions."

Horsies I correctly picked to win today: Dancing Lion (Monmouth allowance), Imposing Grace (Arlington Matron Stakes)

A horse that placed: Admiral Kitten (Arlington Classic)
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (ryo/dee season 2 foreheads)
New words on "Not as Dumb" since lunchtime: 2692. Plus longhand notes on both sides of four old library sign-out cards, and yes, I'm alive to the irony of appropriating them for the purposes of plotting online fic. (I'll post a photograph later.)

LJ link-farming fail: detailed here and elsewhere. Read more... )

Anyhow, main point: posting it here as a FYI for those of you who do want to know what LJ is doing with your link-clicks.

On a happier note, I've indulged in a fair amount of really good fic the past couple of days. The standouts include:

An Interesting and Difficult Woman. Author currently anon at the hp_beholder fest. Aunt Muriel/Ollivander. 10K, NWS. Splendid depiction of two older people keeping on and playing chess with each other, both literally and figuratively.

[... and I had another "over 40 kickass female" rec I was thinking of in relation to this, but the bookmark might be on the other computer. Oops...]

Half the World is Waiting by [ profile] dreamlittleryo. FAKE, Bikky/Carol and Dee/Ryo and others, futurefic, about 5K, PG-13, terrific characterization (including of tertiary characters like Lai). Love, love, love.

Okay, that's enough tab-wrangling for the moment. Post on wolves and sheep TK...
bronze_ribbons: Kimiko Date Krumm fistpump @ Seoul 2009 (Kimiko fistpump)
First, from the online coaching klatsch:

Christine Kane )

Ashley Sinclair: Calling all Perfectionists: 2 Steps to Taming the Beast [Via Havi Brooks, who'd linked to Naomi Dunsford (whose blog I hadn't visited before today, but her posts on fear and tattoos and semicolons (especially the first handful of comments to the latter) are ones I'll be revisiting), who'd linked...]

A recitation of pleasures:

* It hit 80 degrees here a week ago. The downside of allergens galore has been more than offset by joys such as napping in a sunlit living room and discussing Trust business at a picnic table.

* Lone red tulip in the front yard. I didn't plant it, so, y'know, a gift.

* Cooking: roast chicken, chicken stock, corn bread (from mix) and chocolate pudding (from scratch). And chicken jelly on chopped cucumbers (sounds weird, I know, but it was super-delicious).

* Gwendolyn MacEwen on Magic Cats [via Joanne Merriam].

* Finding out the presentation I'm working on should be only 30 minutes instead of an hour. MUCH less pressure, huzzah!

* Writing: nothing jelling at the rate I want it to, and two sets of rejections over the weekend, BUT also a couple of good lines last night, a revision-upon-request yesterday, and an acceptance this morning, so go me!
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (ribbons)
Somewhere across the pond, Xisca Perello and Shakira's fiance are watching outtakes and LAUGHING THEIR ASSES OFF.
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (yosh19)
Owie, owie, ouch. I burned my left pinkie while baking tonight. That makes two weeks in a row with cooking-related injuries. (Last week it was jalapeno burns.) Let's see if I can make it through tomorrow's dinner prep...

On the bright side, I now have warm-from-the-oven chocolatey oatmeal cookies, just because I felt like it. Which I am having with my third glass of red wine. I do love being a grownup. Even though, at the moment, I would much rather be working on the monster WiPs or angry/sexy/GTFO-my-head-NOW poems instead wading through twenty-year-old tax paperwork.

Speaking of poetry, "I Hear You With Half of My Heart went up at My Poem Rocks last month, and three very short poems up at 7x20 over the summer.

To my considerable startlement, I also picked up this...

From tennis

for this:
NWS fridge-magnet ficlet under the cut )

...which, you know, not bad for something pulled together three hours before the deadline. Now if I can stop living the rest of my life like that... *grimace*

the words on the fridge )

Also? BBC livetexts and radio are lovesome things. And then there are the aspects of fandom that are not. )


Not that I have any room to talk. I had lunch with a colleague yesterday, and we got to talking about my upcoming month in Israel:

J: Are you going to visit any other countries while you're there?

R: I seriously considered Egypt and Jordan, but probably not. The problem is that I don't have time to learn enough Arabic before I leave. [beat] Um. Yeah. I know I don't have to, but...

J: Yeah, but I know you well enough for that to actually make sense.
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (masha RG 09)
(1) Andrea Petkovic - interesting, personality-wise

(2) Andrew Broad at the TW boards says, "Monica Niculescu is the WTA version of Fabrice Santoro: she has two hands both sides, but unlike Marion Bartoli, she has Santoro's forehand slice, and plays lots of dropshots."

(3) Also in the TW forum, from Jenni, a disgruntled St. Louis fan: "I'm not even that upset that they got rid of Washburn. It's that this team is always trading away cows and then expecting us to be excited that they got a handful of magic beans with 'great fastballs.' Ridiculous. But then again, this is the team that traded our Hall of Fame manager for Randy Winn."

(4) "Lendl" was an answer in this morning's UPI crossword.

(5) The NYT had an article on Andrea Jaeger, who became a nun after she retired. Sadly, the article's about a property dispute between her children's charity ranch and its neighbors.

According to the dentist's assistant, the 3/16" chunk I dug out of my gum on Saturday was some of the concrete used in installing the temporary crown. In any case, I got through the morning with a combination of ibuprofen and folk remedies (some saltwater rinsing, followed by gauze plastered with a paste made from Becherovka and ground cloves), and by sacking out (having been awake since 3 a.m. was a factor in that as well). Post-dentist, I stopped at two grocery stores, the art supply store, and the library, and the rest of the evening will be spent at the easel as soon as the contractor working on my bedroom window clears out (long story). Onwards...
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (yosh6)
(1) Project P finally delivered to client this afternoon. Yay! I am looking forward to sleeping through the night!

(2) While it was not a good thing to hear the dentist say, "That fracture went deeper than I thought," nor to feel said dentist's drill against said fracture, the repair has been made, I have painkillers at hand, and also a blenderful of homemade tomato soup. And because of good thing #1, I can also indulge in shots of St. Germain.

(3) I also had a jar of sardinade au thym I'd brought back from France. Lovely on toast.

(4) Listening to Stile Antico's recording of Byrd's "Vigilate."

three recs: Tokyo Babylon, Harudaki, Rachel Manija Brown )
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (yosh1)
So, so tired, and yet more middle-of-the-night bug-chasing anticipated. On the plus side, having to be on standby online all damned day resulted in some catching up via e-mail (which in turn resulted in some rearranging of my language-study plans -- it turns out I'll be attending a wedding in Israel this fall, so Hebrew just leapfrogged over Mandarin. I'm loving the library's Pimsleur CD series, by the way...) and the writing of a New Year's Resolution fic:

Title: Deserving
Fandom: Haru wo Daiteita
Characters: Yoshizumi, Iwaki, and Katou
Rating: PG
Summary: "What the hell am I in the middle of now?" Yoshizumi doesn't know what to think when he lands a starring role opposite Katou's Iwaki.
Wordcount: 1054
Written for: glass-icarus, who had specified that "possessiveness is a giant thing for me; thus, obviously, when I mentioned Yoshizumi, I didn't mean a threesome. :P Katou and Iwaki being sweet are fabulous, Yoshizumi calling them out on it is also fabulous, Yoshizumi poking fun at them or talking to them about their relationship (in passing or not), any combination of the three of them bonding over acting..."
(I'll repost in this journal in a couple days or so - the file's on another machine)

* * *

twenty first lines meme: arguably spoilers for FAKE and Haru below the cut )

Patterns? Um... That I tend to write longer sentences than most of you is probably not news (*waves at [personal profile] westernredcedar, who wrangled with this firsthand when she recorded "The Hounding of the Baskervilles"*). That I often start out stories with characters in media thinkety is likewise Not A Revelation. Beyond that... aaah. At the moment I wouldn't be able to recognize a Fibonacci sequence if it smacked me with a slide rule. I think it's time to go check on my cauldron of tomato stew and then either kick a sonnet closer to shape or succumb to another two-hour catnap.
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (Default)
[Subject line from Robert Pinsky's Tennis]

My original plans for the day have been curtailed by my left foot (not sure what I did, but I can't put weight on it, which precludes gadding to/from hot chicken festivals and fireworks and the like) and some encroaching deadlines, but I have a pitcher of iced peach tea at the ready and a whole raft of Haru wo Daiteita fics by geri-chan that I'm going to reward myself with as soon as I put some reasonable distance between me and Canis deadlinus chompus.

Not that that's stopped me from obsessively following Wimbledon. Proud of Dementieva for showing up with a serve, and especially proud of Roddick for working so hard to raise his game to finalist level. I do like Muzz (he's Scottish, he's fond of his dog, and his head's screwed on right -- "It's a pathetic attitude to lose one match and let it ruin your year"), but I'm pleased as punch that A-Rod prevailed in four sets, and I'll be happy about either him or Federer winning tomorrow as long as A-Rod brings his A+ game and pushes Federer to earn the darn thing. (Not that Federer won't have earned it otherwise, but I want to see more of him in flight. Match point yesterday against Haas was lovely to behold.)

Also (with apologies to [personal profile] aunty_marion), I have to say that following yesterday's semifinal via livetexts (BBC, Guardian, and Wimby) and scoreboarding (we get neither cable nor NBC at my house -- long story -- and the videostreams I've tried so far send my hard drive into seizures) was highly entertaining. There was one UK member of the TennisWorld forum who periodically burst out with lines from "Scots wha hae," and Stephen Fry let loose on Twitter with "Oh, in the name of cock-mothering arse mustard" mid-match and "Holy suck-pigging BITCH!" upon its conclusion. The Wimbledon Poet has posted A-Rod's iPod War Boast, which may be the first Beowulf-Rick Astley mashup in the history of online poetry.

Speaking of online poetry, I have three new pieces up at Dead Mule: "The Language of Waiting," "Fuel," and "Sonic Crochet Hook."
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (DelPo)
Alas, the Elf did not prevail, but golly, does he sound like a sweetie.

And Roddick, Murray, and Mauresmo all won! The last is especially a happy thing. Allez Momo!

(Much to rabbit on about but the to-do list has resumed trying to kill me. Later, loves.)
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (wirite)
So, reckoning up my Saturday (which involved very little of what I'd ought've done... *sheepish*)...

total hours of sleep: six, maybe (three in the morning and three more as a crash-nap)

medications: inhaler, cough drops, Empress Afternoon tea

poems accepted: two
poems rejected: four
poems (re)submitted: eleven

wordcount so far for Not As Dumb part 3: 269. Not for lack of dwelling on it -- it's just not jelling yet. *grumpf*

Harudaki drabble-plot conceived and later discarded: 1 (on the phrase Mi o mochikuzusu, which is idiomatic for "His immoral life led him to ruin" but literally reads "He let his body go to the dogs," which was giving me ideas for Mochimune vs. Onozuka snarkage)

Number of times I thought of Yoshizumi during tonight's Noh performance: dozens
(the troupe is based in Kyoto; the lead dancer is the same one pictured in this flyer for the show in Memphis next Monday - Nashville was the second stop on their three-city tour)

Other people's poems recently read and/or revisited:

Meghann Marco, WTF Sestina

Lafayette Wattles, I Couldn't Tell Which Were The Thoughts And Which Were The Trees

Scott Owens, January Looks Forward and Back, Feeds the Stove October's Wood, Saves the Ashes for April's Garden

Tony Hoagland, Reading Moby-Dick at 30,000 Feet

And, one of the poems I read late last night was Charles Olson's "A Newly Discovered Homeric Hymn" (1955), which freaked me out just enough that I intend to inflict it upon the rest of you as a voicepost soon (because, y'know, that whole thing about comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable... *friendly evil smile*). (But seriously, it's not so much its subject matter - I mean, the Wattles poem hurts way, way more -- but something about the sounds of the Olson poem connected with something in my gut, and while it's not why I couldn't get back to sleep after 4:30 a.m. yesterday morning, it's probably poking at the phantom ribs of my subconscious when I'm not looking. And speaking of getting to bed -- oy.)
bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (broomstick)
First and foremost, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who bid on my offerings at livelongmarry. *loves you all*

More joys and glee:

[click image for larger view]

[ profile] ravenna_c_tan, organizer extraordinaire, has posted additional details on how to get to Quimby's. It is on Wednesday night and it is open to the public. You do not have to be registered for Terminus to attend this reading. There will be fabulous prizes (some of which are on my "To Make As Soon As Work Stops Eating Me Alive" list). ETA: Yet more info from the store's blog.

  • I have received my Quidditch team assignment: I will be playing for Betas Anonymous Punctuation Pixies. (There are least three readers of this journal now laughing their sweet arses off at the sheer appropriateness of this assignment.)

  • Via [ profile] tjwritter: Tears of the Phoenix is hosting a gathering at the conference, Saturday night. Copying and pasting the description from the Intersections page:

    Tears of the Phoenix Presents "The Little Room"
    RSVP: Tamela at
    Date: Saturday, August 9, 2008
    Time: 8 p.m. - midnight
    Location: Kitty O'Sheas Irish Pub, Hilton Chicago Hotel
    The 1920s Literary Renaissance of Chicago was called "The Little Room". We want to recreate that resurgence Harry Potter-style by having a night of creativity with drabbles, flash fiction, drawbles or whatever else your gin-soaked bunny demands. Drop-ins welcome, challenges every half an hour! Twenty-one years of age and older only, please.

    [As listed here, my other Saturday commitments include a 9 p.m. drabble booth shift and a 11 p.m. reading of "D'accord, d'accord," so I'll be holding off on the gin until those are done.]

  • In personal news, I'm still in the midst of making my mother's house saleable, among myriad other chores. The professional docket remains crowded, and the warren of plot- and poem-bunnies seems to have multiplied by a factor of twenty over the past week, which is exasperating at the moment, since I have way too many things on the "To Finish" list as it is. At the same time, it's rather exhilarating looking at the world through the eyes of new characters-to-be. I should shut up already and write, so I will. More later, my dears. *scatters carrots amongst all your bunnies, and hugs to those who want/need them*
    bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (wirite)
    David Sedaris, on hearing some of his earlier writing quoted:

    “I thought, ‘It’s too dense, and it’s trying too hard.’ ” Though his prose slips down as smoothly as a Häagen-Dazs ice cream bar, he goes through the sort of process described by John Kenneth Galbraith, who said that “I do not put that note of spontaneity that my critics like into anything but the fifth draft.”

    For Mr. Sedaris that process involves at least seven drafts and a great deal of reading aloud new pieces while on tour, listening to the cadences of the sentences and noting how the audience responds: when people laugh, when they lose interest. “You realize you’re repeating yourself or being lazy,” he said.

    bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (Default)
    My sinuses currently feel like they're the size of pumpkins. Intelligent design my foot.

    Also have another hour of work I have to log in before I can go to bed. *grumble*

    That said, on the eight night of Christmas, my true love stopped by my sofa, handed me three Lego keychains -- one of Dumbledore, one of Hagrid, and one of Hermione -- and said, "I looked for your favorites, but they weren't in stock."

    *still grinning from ear to ear*


    bronze_ribbons: snapshot of me in standing bow (Default)

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