entertaining infinity

feelin' the love

In my (new-ish) life on Facebook, I've been fascinated by the wild craze that was (and still is, i guess) 25 Random Things About Me.  Today at my writers group, I had the babes play with a variation on the theme: Random Things About Love.

Just a few (random) things that came up among us:

It's hard to write about love without quoting songs.  (for me in particular) (no surprise there, huh?)

We've heard that "love is a many splendored thing," but none of us quite got what "a many splendored thing" was supposed to mean (but i remember there was a soap opera).

Divorce isn't necessarily a failure of love; sometimes its a changing of form.

Poetry is the ultimate all-access backstage pass to the soul.  (and rumi seems to be the ultimate guide, with hafiz coming in a close second ...)

We like sex but we like it better when in love.

Strawberries dipped in dark chocolate are really, really good.

Many of us associate good food with love.  (and when mickeyg writes about food, we all fall in love ...)

We are mixed on the whole Valentines Day thing ...

... but the Valentine Peace Project is a great way to re-think the day. (i don't see why it needs to be reserved for just one day though; i might do it tomorrow too ...)

John and Paul were right: Nowhere you can be that isn't where you were meant to be.

We sometimes get in our own way with love.

Hugs from kids accelerates heart expansion.

Sometimes the heart wants what it wants; we are not perfect.

It's easier (and harder) than you think to write randomly about love. 

But we still love love, and we love writing about love.

(oh yes we do)

(feel free to add/expand on this in the comments writer babes ...)  (and anyone else who cares to play ...)

testing, testing ... audio update

Mobile post sent by deb using Utterli.  Replies.  mp3

drunk on poetry

Spent much of the weekend at the luscious Dodge Poetry Festival and am finding it hard coming back down to earth.  How, after a weekend immersed in all that open hearted conversation ...of being whumped again and again in the gut ... of getting the wind knocked out of you (in a good way) by sweet invitations and soulful energy, how do you go back to work and details and gravity?

Photos and more thoughts may come later, but for now, sink into this delicious Rumi poem (and then, if you can surface without feeling just a little bummed that you have to come back, you're a stronger soul than i ...).

Love Dogs

One night a man was crying "Allah, Allah!" 

His lips grew sweet with the praising,

until a cynic said:

"So ... I have heard you calling out, but have you ever gotten any response?"

The man had no answer for that.

He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls in a thick, green foliage.

"Why did you stop praising?"

“Because I've never heard anything back."

"This longing you express is the return message."

The grief you cry out from

draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness that wants help

is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.

That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs no one knows the names of.

Give your life to be one of them.

bittersweet/peculiar times

I bought this print at a craft fair over 10 years ago.  It's moved back and forth across the country with me, and it always winds up in a place of prominence in my home (hinting, to those who might take a look, about the sort of woman who lives there ...).

A while back, I discovered that the artist (brian andreas) had a website with cards and e-cards (i like to send both), and while I was checking out his stuff, I signed up for his mailing list.  Like most artists (songwriters, writers, etc.), I don't like everything he does (some of the drawings/stories can be a little freaky, whimsical and far out even for me) ... then sometimes (like my print), he just nails it.

And this morning I was met by an email offering a free down-loadable e-book of some of his sketches called Peculiar Times.  I agree that these are, indeed, peculiar times, and since I think we need to arm ourselves with as much heart, laughs and hope as possible to get through them, I figured I'd pass the link along and hope you might get a little inspiration among the pages to walk through another slightly whacked-out day.

(and if like me, you go for the bittersweet, you can buy a copy of that print here.)

(hang in there peeps ... )

YES

Tomorrow is Super (duper) Tuesday and NJ is among 22 states going to voting booths. I've made no bones about who is getting my vote.  If you have doubt ... consider this:

(for scoops on the creator of the video and a link to a list of the participants, go here.)

And then tomorrow, go vote.

patry glows, cancer sucks, blogs rock

As infrequently as I've been posting lately, I've been an equally infrequent visitor to some of my favorite blog buds ... so I'm late to the party for Patry, but I wanted to add my voice to the chorus just the same. 

An introduction: I've enjoyed Patry's blog since my early days playing in the blogosphere (when marilyn made the introduction/link).  I began looking in on her blog from time to time, and she'd do the same here. (patry's the one who instigated/inspired this post of mine - which i had an absolute blast with).  She's a delightful and generous human being and writer, and (yea) about a year ago she had her very first novel - The Liar's Diary - published. 

Then, about 2 months ago - right before the paperback was released - she was diagnosed with cancer.  Since her diagnosis, I've been looking in on her blog more regularly, just to see how she's doing and how her spirits are. (in this bizarre and fabulous blogosphere, it's amazing how intimate you can become with people who are strangers to your day to day "real life.")  (and ever since mom, i take a diagnosis of cancer rather personally and want to show up and support those who have it, or who are caring for people who have it, in whatever way i can ...) (but i digress)

Now, two surgeries later, Patry says her prognosis is good, but she's still in early recovery and not available to help promote the book - her attentions are required elsewhere (the priorities certainly refocus, don't they?).  Aware of how important the promotion stuff is to the success of a book, one of Patry's friends/fellow writers Laura Benedict decided to try to rally some others to help: "I thought that the least I could do for Patry was to contact a few fellow bloggers and see if we couldn’t give her a little morale boost by touting today’s paperback release of The Liar’s Diary, since she cannot tour for it."  And The Liar's Diary Blog Day was born.  The word spread, and on the 29th (yep, i missed the actually day), there were nearly 400 bloggers putting out the word about Patry and her book.  Even the publisher got into the act, offering to take 15% off the price of the paperback until February 15th when purchased from their online store (just enter PATRY in the coupon code and click "update cart" to activate it).

Sometimes this blogland reminds me of how cool people can be if given the opportunity, and how good things can multiply with a little energy and attention.

And while I missed the actually day of the book's release, there's no reason why we can't keep the momentum going ... (if i get to have a birthday month, why can't patry have the liar's diary blog month?) ... spread the word and the good vibes (and buy the book!).

thank-full 07

Without the commercial or religious overtones that the other winter holidays have, Thanksgiving is the celebration of the season for me.  I get to cook and bake, have a few days away from the office, hang out with family and friends and use that time to consider and appreciate all of the good things in my life and in the world. 

Some of those ... in no particular order:

The Fam.  The Beaners. (the twin beaners celebrated their 5th bday this past week ... ohmygod, the days just fly by.)

My friends, near/far.  And friends who are family.

Good music/my iPod.  (and these cool things that i'm looking into buying so i can transfer old cassettes and albums to said iPod.) (cause seriously, where else are you going to get the defranco family singing heartbeat it's a lovebeat?  not on iTunes ... bummah)

Tissues (i have a wicked, bad cold ... daaamn).

Work that challenges me, uses many of my gifts, keeps me in a mix of very cool people, and is keeping me flush.

Dunkin Donuts coffee.

How going green seems to have reached a tipping point. (which is making it easier to keep improving in that arena myself ...)

A warm and comfy home.  (an emphasis on warm too: it's bloody cold out there; i can hear the wind whipping outside the windows and i'm toasty, thank god.)

This wonderful contraption that is on its way to me even as we speak. (i said i wasn't going to live through another winter without one ...)

Writing. 

My writing groups (and the women who have hung in there and been patient with me, still wanting what i offer, even as i have hosted so few sessions this year).   

Other people's writing (i've been reading like a wild-woman lately; a huge variety of stuff. LOVED this.  only part-way through, but digging this one at the moment).

Listerine's cinnamon breath strips.

Time outside. (i get so much less of it in the winter cause i don't tolerate the cold well, but yesterday was scary global-warming-sorta-warm [in the 60's] and i got to sit out on the back deck for my coffee and morning writing; yum.) 

My digital camera.  (and the pictures i get when i use it: exhibit a: beaners, above; exhibit b: a tree, below.)

Old Calvin and Hobbes cartoons that are still wonderful after the skillionth read.

Barack Obama.  (i really believe this guy is trying to change the political conversation and i fucking LOVE THAT.)

Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap.  (the soap itself, as well as the wonderful rants on the label: all-one! all-one or none! do not drink soap! dilute! dilute! OK?)

The alarm clock that wakes me up to the sounds of the sea.

Growth, even when it's hard.  (as i've been known to say: oh goody, another fucking growth opportunity.) (or perhaps, as the christian writer catherine marshall put it a bit more poetically than i: often god shuts a door in our face, and then subsequently opens the door though which we need to go.)

Soft clothes. (aka - schlub clothes: my fluffy yoga pants and the you-wouldn't-catch-me-in-public-in-it sweatshirt that i've had for nearly 20 years but is the coziest thing i own ...) (and yes, i'm wearing that outfit now, and thank god you can't see me ...)

My plants.  (life all over the house)

Tissues (yeah, i know i said it already, but this cold really, really sucks).

My computer.  The internet.  Google.  (how did i survive? how did i connect and find stuff i need and keep up with friends all over the place before these fast double clicks?)

Making recipes that have been passed down.  Since my mom died (damn, it still sucks to write that.  i wonder if it ever won't ...) ... since she died, every Thanksgiving I make her famous creamed spinach.  It's not hard to make, and I don't know that there was anything hugely unique about the way she made it, but it was hers.  I even remember writing it (and it's still on the same scrap of paper in my recipe file) leaning against the counter in her kitchen as she stood washing dishes, dictating.  (so glad i have so many of my mom's recipes ...)

This poem.  This one too.  And this one. (i've reading a lot more poetry these days; always looking for luscious recommendations; send 'em on if you have favorites ...)

This view outside my home office window. (speaking of poetry)

And finally, I'm thankful for this little corner of the cyber universe, where I write whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it ... and to you folks who come by to visit/read/make up my community.  As C.S. Lewis said: We read to know we are not alone.  That's a big part of the reason why I write too.  Thanks for keeping me company.

Thank-full.

someone else's b-day; i get a prezzie

In honor of Scott-a-leh's upcoming Big 5-oh b-day, a handful us got together and went on a dinner cruise around Manhattan on Sunday night.

I think we all expected a bit of cheese and low-brow camp, but what we got?  Well, if you're ever looking for the perfect romantic evening, a fabulous meal and some top-notch entertainment on a winter night, this, my friends, would not be it. (cheese?  think cheeze-whiz baby)  With a buffet much like the ones you'll find at a conference in a hotel, tables close together with too-bright lighting, and entertainment that seemed to take its cue from Bill Murray's Nick-the-Lounge-Singer act on SNL ... oh no, they don't call it The Spirit of New Jersey for nothing.  (ok, ok, so i'm over-exaggerating and playing into all the worst stereotypes of my state when i say that, but allow yourself to simmer with the general concept and you'll get the picture).   

Then again, if you don't care about the food or the atmo at the table, or the distractions of (alleged) entertainment, and you just want to hang with some friends and have a laugh, this could be your thing.  And I would venture to guess that this is what motivates many to come on board.  I imagine there are plenty people like our group out there - which is probably how these guys stay in biz (i almost said "afloat" but resisted).  (then again, maybe i didn't.)

I hung with the crowd for about an hour in the dining room before the pull of the outdoors became irresistible. With the lights and the sights of Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens and Joisey floating by, I just couldn't stay inside ... fab company or not.  Anti-social perhaps, but maybe that's the bonus of being the only single among a crowd of couples ... it was easy to slip away and not be missed.

Huddled with my back against the captain's cabin in a plastic chair I snagged, I managed to stay pretty well protected from the breezes.  But even so, I had come prepared.  I wore a dress - it was a festive occasion, after all - but I also wore boots with heavy socks, and a long boiled wool coat that used to belong to my mother - a toasty thing that I fondly refer to as "the rug."  I'd also packed a bag stuffed with sweatpants, a big wrap-around schmata, a scarf, hat and gloves; there was no way I was going to be spending an evening on a boat cruising around NY harbor and sitting inside; there would've had to be an ice storm going on to keep me off that deck.

When the boat got close to the Statue of Liberty, loads of people - families, groups of friends, couples - all came running up from the dining room to get a good look and snap some photos - many of them shrieking about the cold and wind as they did.  (short skirts, high heels and flimsy coats on the deck of a boat on the hudson river in november is going to be cold girls, i'm thinking to myself as the parade of drunken 20-somethings giggled their way to the railing, posed and ran back downstairs) I just waited them out ... stayed in my little chair, assured that I'd get the place to myself again once Ms. Liberty was further out of sight.

There's something so compelling about being alone in a space made so big by water and sky.  (perhaps it brings me back to the days of working on the cruise ships, but i loved being on the water - boats of any kind - long before that.  my time on the cruise ships may have cemented the love affair though, cause now even the scent of diesel fumes whipping up over the back of the boat smell sweet to me.) But whether I'm sitting on a beach, by a river or lake, on a boat or a ship, night or day, it calms and restores me.  I suppose I'm not unique; I know a lot of people say that about the water ... but I go all out - packing sweatpants to wear under a dress on a cold November night - so I can get my fix. 

As the days get colder and shorter and I try to combat my natural tendency to go inward and hibernate (eventually leading to the dreaded winter bum-out) (particularly now as i'm doing so damn much navel gazing anyway) perhaps a boat ride from time to time is something I should plan.  (and i don't have to go cheeze-whiz ... the staten island ferry is free ... hm.)

So, a happy 50th to Scott-a-leh ... and thanks for the party favor.

the show goes on

All you need is love, love - so what if I'm naive?

This story makes me SO happy. 

When an Episcopal Bishop in Central Florida put pressure on an independent prep school in his dioceses (that had historical ties to the episcopal church, but no active affiliation) to shut down a production of La Cage aux Folles (a play that centers around the lives of a gay couple and their drag nightclub), it looked like it was (forgive the pun but i can't help myself) 'curtains' for the show.

"That any high school would sponsor this particular production ... certainly seems an unusual decision for a Christian preparatory school," he was quoted in the Orlando Sentinel.

But, uh ... didn't the guy who inspired all those Christian religions say that we should love ALL people?  ALL people.  All right, I know: I'm naive.  But daaamn, that's what I thought Jesus' teachings were supposed to be about ... and it's that very same thing La Cage is about: love. 

Well, love, acceptance and tolerance ... and fabulous spangles and men in drag, set to wonderful music.

But really, who cares how it's packaged?  It gets me so riled when I hear about people who PREACH love and tolerance but don't LIVE it.  (grrrrr)

Interesting too, to read about this today: six years since those planes sliced through the towers and everything started spinning out of whack.  All in the name of religion.  And being right.  And making other people wrong.  And pride.  And intolerance.  (oy, don't get me started ...) (oops, too late ...)

(me? i'm a very tolerant person; i just can't tolerate intolerant people ... )

But hey, we have a happy ending to this story: The Church of Theater (living their values of tolerance, acceptance and entertainment for all), came to the rescue.  Even though the school had caved in to the Bishop and cancelled the performances, at least 15 theater companies and/or performing arts centers in Central Florida offered to host this high school production, and they wound up putting it on at the Orlando Repertory Theater this past weekend to standing-room-only audiences. 

That's one for the good guys.  Bravo.

~  ~   ~   ~  ~   ~

This song - the closer from Act I of La Cage - is a nice finale for today.  (it gives me goosebumps almost every time I hear it ... it's not the best video, but it's the song that matters, so it'll do ...) ( ... or you might remember gloria gaynor's fab disco version ...)

And (naive or whatevah) ... if I haven't said it a skillion times already ...

thoughts on the blog-versary

The other day I realized that I've been blogging for 2 years ... man, time sure does fly.

When I started, I didn't have much of an intention for the whole thing.  Maria had been blogging for a while and she thought that "blog-as multi-media art form"/"self-expression work-out" would be a natural for me, and once I started looking around on the blogosphere (amazingly, i hadn't really been aware of it before ...), and saw what other people were doing, I knew she was right. 

I figured it would be a fun exercise/written "performance"/soap box ... but I expected it'd be pretty anonymous.  I didn't tell many people I was doing it at first, just a handful of good buds, and while I knew it was the internet and therefore hugely public, I felt I was talking in a loud room to some close friends, and I didn't really expect to be heard by anybody who wasn't close. 

Then Maria put a link to my blog on hers when I "went live," and several total strangers came by to visit.  It was a hoot to get comments from people I'd never met saying they liked what I wrote or they got a kick out of my style and/or perspective.  I quickly forgot about my expected anonymity and let my ego swim around in the delightful encouragement and attention.  (big fish ... teeny, tiny little pond.)

Once the initial rush of visitors and comments mellowed, I was still having a complete blast; the ability to write whatever I felt like and get that instant gratification from "publishing" the whatever-it-was-I-felt-like ... inserting links to cool websites (attempting to turn the world on to my own interest in whacked out grooveness, obscure clips from old television shows and other fun links)?  Too much fun.  And in between playing with the form and referencing pop culture trivia, I'd often weave in thoughts about deepiosity in varying degrees, whinge about stuff that gets me incensed (mostly W), and share bits of personal stuff here and there (can't help myself, it's in my nate-cha).

In these two years I've really come to love the dialogue that evolves from reader feedback/comments on and off-line; the comments and conversations have been the most delightful, unexpected by-product of the whole experiment.  It's not so much about feeling like I'm so marvelous and my writing is so fabulous (although i never turn down a bit of worship ...) ... it's more that I've found one more way to connect with people and "connection addict" that I am, I love that. 

And still, there have been times when I'd write something personal/vulnerable, or goofy/warped/'out-there' and I'd hesitate and second guess myself about posting it. What's kinda strange is that I'll often post things on here that have never come up with people I talk to all the time, so I wonder why am I willing to be revealing about my schtuff in a way that's so public?  And in the face of possible humiliation and/or embarrassment too?  Perfect example: a while back I had a post that I actually took down a day or two after publishing it (and left it 'down' for over two weeks) because I felt strange putting such 'woo woo' stuff out there.  Eventually I re-published it because I was annoyed by my own wimpiness; I re-posted in spite of the feeling ... or maybe in defiance of it.  Besides, most of the time, I convince myself that my readership consists of about 10 -12 regulars and a handful of "occassional's," so my feelings of "vulnerability" are simply the result of ego gone wild. 

Then, pretty recently - over a period of a month or so - I learned that a couple of people who I knew (but not really well) had discovered my blog and had been reading.  Then, soon after that, a friend explained how I could look on my blog management page and see how often my stuff had been viewed.  Once I figured out how to do it I saw numbers that were higher than I would have expected to see.  (nothing dramatic - most days average i average about 11 hits. but that means that among the days where no one visits, there are also a few where there are 20 and 30 hits; i figured the most i'd see was 10 - 12.  wild.) (but i digress)

All this info wigged me out a little. Good god, what have I written?  Who else is reading that I don't know about?  Is there anything I should have been less overt about?  Are there any old posts that'll come back to haunt me?  What sort of self-indulgent drivel have I been tossing out for the world to see?

So during my recent unplanned hiatus I gave some thought to taking a more conscious break from the blog, but in the end, there are too many things I enjoy about the practice - the dialogue that springs up with folks who read; the chance to exercise the writing/creativity muscle in a way that's so different from my personal writing practice or the longer term writing stuff I do; learning more about what matters to me, and what I do with all that ... (like e.m. forster once mused: "how can i know what i think till i see what i say?") - and so I'll keep playing.

So happy blog-versary to me ... and to you (whoever you are) for reading, and keeping me company on the ride.