blue girl

Wren to the Rescue

Five minutes ago I was going to quit blogging. Forever.

I can't write anymore. I have nothing to say!

So, I was just sitting over here drinking my Sprite Zero, whimpering, feeling sorry for my wordless, boring self when I decided to click over to see what Blue Wren's been up to. And I got a real kick out of it...

Today is the first day of the rest of your life, so they say. I have to agree. How can you not? After all, the other days of your life are already gone. Yesterday is yesterday, lost. You can't do it over. You've really only got today. And today, there are so many distractions that keep you from doing things just as you'd like. Although today, I did do something just as I liked. I took a shower with the window wide open, and just outside, it was snowing and windy. I pretended while I was in the shower that I lived in Norway, and that soon, I would run outside naked and throw myself into the snow and roll around and get all tingly down to my soul before running back inside to get dry and warm and drink hot chocolate and maybe eat a big steamy bowl of potato soup with crusty bread.

Blue Wren fell under the spell of Dr. Wicked's web application, Write or Die! It's a site that lets you challenge yourself to write as many words as you can in a certain amount of time. And it also punishes the tendency to avoid writing. As long as you keep typing, you're fine, but once you stop typing, you have a grace period of a certain number of seconds and then there are consequences.

Consequences! I think that's just what I need to start writing again. Like Dr. Wicked wrote...

If I don't write my own stories I am only disappointing myself. I experience perpetual disappointment in myself so I'm kind of used to it.

Sigh. I can relate. Dr. Wicked's consequences are:

Gentle Mode: A certain amount of time after you stop writing, a box will pop up, gently reminding you to continue writing.

Normal Mode: If you persistently avoid writing, you will be played a most unpleasant sound. The sound will stop if and only if you continue to write.

Kamikaze Mode: Keep Writing or Your Work Will Unwrite Itself

I'm going to visit Dr. Wicked every morning to try to get back into the swing of things over here.

I'm a little scared but why should I be? Like Wren said, Oh, This is fun...

Here's to hoping!

The Culture War has Lost a Soldier

After my mother-in-law, who voted for Nixon twice and Barack Obama once, told me she had seen and loved Slumdog Millionaire (she predicts it'll win Best Picture and Best Director) and after she said she liked Frost/Nixon but felt you'd have to know your history in order to get it, said...

"And I'm going to see Milk next week." Her eyes widened and her facial expression brightened as she leaned in to me to share a secret. She continued, "I do not mind seeing those sorts of controversial movies! Some people just have different lifestyles than you and me. It's just the way it is!"

I Can Show You Some of the People in My Life

All I need is a TV show, that, and a radio. That, and a knock at my door, where yesterday a neighbor stood to hand me a small package that was accidentally put in her mailbox a few days ago.

I...I...opened the package. There were three CDs enclosed. I ran upstairs and popped the first one in my computer. And then something spoke. And this is what it said to me!

There was also a letter, filled with typos, that read in part...

It's what I call the Ultimate Zombee Genesis Imaginary Tour Extravaganza, Soiree, and Live Playlist. Taking the best from the live stuff I have on a hard drive and putting together the 3 hour show they SHOULD do.

Dodo 7:19
Abacab 8:47
Tonight, Tonight, Tonight 3:36
The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway 6:29
Carpet Crawlers 5:45
In the Cage 13:30
Afterglow (Live In Manchester) 4:28
Entangled (Live) 6:57
Home By The Sea / Second Home By… 12:14
Ripples (Live In Prague) 7:58
Mama 6:50
The Musical Box 10:56
Conversations With 2 Stools 6:49
Los Endos (Live At Twickenham) 6:25
Man On The Corner (Live) 4:05
Driving The Last Spike 10:17
Firth Of Fifth 8:29
Supper´s Ready 24:33
Dukes Intro (Live In Manchester) 3:49
Behind The Lines 5:26
Turn It On Again 6:21
The Knife [Live] 9:47
Duke's Travels/End (Live) 9:32

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I emailed my buddy, BP to let him know that I had finally received his gift. And we exchanged emails all afternoon.

BP wrote...

I had to do them as three audio cds, rather than a single mp3 cd, because the mp3 cd wouldn't maintain the track order. Which, as we know IS CRUCIAL IN A GENESIS SHOW....

... If you set a small fade overlap between songs, the crowd noise even blends pretty well.

I had to laugh. I couldn't even get them to import in the correct order, let alone even think to set a small fade overlap between songs. But, I do understand how CRUCIAL IT IS to have them in correct order, so I vowed to work on that. In the meantime, I became obsessed with listening to Behind the Lines.

I couldn't stop myself. Afterall, it is written in the book!

The Book of Genesis, people.

BP and I wrote about the Genesis albums and cassettes we have or used to have. Which ones first led to our obsession. His being Duke, mine being Trick of the Tail. (Yeah, Cleek. I said Trick of the Tail. Put that in your iPod and play it!)

I told him about a boy in my high school who was the first to have Abacab when it came out. He sat in the lunch area with headphones on, listening to it while the rest of us were gathered around, wanting to get a listen so bad. He wouldn't share! I told BP that I still think of him as a stupid idiot for it.

BP agreed, replying, "Yes. He sucks. I hate him."

And so it can be said that I'm not as stupid of an idiot as Greg J. always was and always will be, I will share it with you all now...

We wrote about memories of old concerts. Got me thinking about the Mama tour and how The Skimmer and I went to the first show together before we were married. And how he still married me when he learned of my serious, serious attitude towards this band and their music. How the next night, I went back with my boss who could not believe how the crowd went wild when the show opened and how he almost stormed out, so jealous of the attention Phil Collins was getting. How I went with another group the third night when I sat behind a group of women who did nothing but talk through the entire concert, until my head was ready to explode and I asked them to please, please, please stop talking. Please, I begged them, please, please, please stop talking! No one cares about your whiny kids! Ok, I didn't say that last part, but I felt like it.

BP and I wrote a little about how we disagreed about the newest tour. But, there are no hard feelings, if what he wrote on his blog back in October is any indication:

You know I like you when: I give you music.

A line and a sentiment I liked the first time I read it. And one I like even more now. And one I will reciprocate.

And now, I will turn it on again and will take your advice, BP, as should all of you (and that includes you, Cleek!)...

...turn it up loud and listen

Thank you, BP! 1, 2, 3, 4! A million times over.

We Will Speak Our Own Minds

I'm sick. And tired. And sick and tired. Of lots of things. Which isn't helping.

I slept the day away yesterday. I woke up around 5:00pm and stumbled down to Blue Kid's room.

"Will you go get me some ginger ale? And soup? I'm hungry and thirsty."

From the looks of me, he could tell I was also dying.

"Ok."

Wow. No heavy sighing. No argument.

"Get some cat food, too, ok? Look at them, circling their food bowl. They act like they're starving to death."

He laughed, "I know. Ok. And I think we need cereal, too."

I lay down on the couch and picked up where I left off in Nicholson Baker's, U and I.

If I were to pop-quiz myself, right now, "Hey, what about Henry's brother, old William James -- what do you think of him?" ---the irritable bluebottle phrase "blooming buzzing confusion" would be first to answer my solicitation, and it would be impossible to wave away, once summoned, in that thought-session. Years of reflection, faculty meetings, mood shifts, changes of profession, trips to Europe, religious doubts, letters from his brother, sensory information of the most varied sort -- all of it has been compacted into words that now (through simple over-quotation, to which I guiltily contribute here) have no more intrinsic bloom or buzz or confusion than a spherical rabbit dropping suspended in a pyramidal lucite paperweight.

A spherical rabbit dropping suspended in a pyramidal lucite paperweight confused my ailing mind. I put the book down on my lap, closed my eyes and drifted off. I heard Blue Kid come through the back door. I got up to help him put the groceries away.

"Oh no!"

"What?!"

"I forgot the cat food. Man, I don't want to go back out!"

"I'm sorry, honey. But look at them."

"You go!"

"I can't! Look at me!"

He sent a text message then tucked his phone in his pocket. I heard him mumble under his breath, "I'm wasting all my gas" before I heard the back door close.

Back on the couch, I continued to read my book. Baker was now writing about seeing Updike in a documentary.

...in one scene, as the camera follows his climb up a ladder at his mother's house to put up or take down some storm windows, in the midst of this tricky physical act, he tosses down to us some startlingly lucid little felicity, some thing about "These small yearly duties which blah, blah, blah," and I was stunned to recognize that in Updike we were dealing with a man so naturally verbal that he could write his fucking memoirs on a ladder!

I thought a better nugget than blah, blah, blah was needed there, then jolted upright. If Blue Kid wants cereal, I hope there's some milk! I checked. Only some. Not even a cereal bowl full.

Oh no. I thought. Oh well, gotta do it. I texted him.

Get milk 2. K? Luv u. 4ever! You luv me 2 rite?

I turned on the television. No picture! I began to randomly push and poke at buttons on the TV and cable box. Nothing. Oh well, BK can fix it when he gets home, I thought. I am really pushing my luck.

I turned off the TV and picked up my book. More Miller quotes.

"Blooming buzzing confusion." "Hard, gemlike flame." "Hobgoblin of little minds." "The terrible fluidity of self revelation." "I refute it thus."

As I exclaimed out loud, "I refute it thus!" Blue Kid came through the back door. As he walked into the living room with a bowl of cereal, I said, "There's no picture on the TV."

"The cable box needs reset."

"Can you do it?"

He walked to the TV. "Mom! Ever hear of Transcendentalism? You are like anti-Transcendentalism!"

I laughed, "What is Transcendentalism?"

"Ever hear of Thoreau? Emerson?! 'We will walk on our own feet, we will work with our own hands?!'"

"I refute it thus! My hands and feet are sick. And anyway, when have you ever read Thoreau and Emerson?"

"I've read them! They're my favorite writers."

I thought I should read them, too. That quote was more accessible to me than A spherical rabbit dropping suspended in a pyramidal lucite paperweight.

Blue Kid fixed the TV and we talked about technology. He said he likes technology but he's not obsessed with it and he hates how everything is changing so fast. We talked about the passing of his Boppa.

"It's strange he's not here anymore, isn't it, BK?"

He looked down and thought for a minute. "Yeah. It's strange but I try to think about it like it's just natural."

He said he hopes there are forests left by the time he dies.

"There will still be forests."

"You never know. People are awful."

"Not all of them. You weren't awful today. You were great. Thanks for putting up with your sick, anti-Transcendentalistic mother."

He grinned, then tilted the cereal bowl up to his lips and drank down the last of the milk.

Hate 101

"Hate is easy so I don't trust it."

Read why Steve Kuusisto thinks he needs to practice hate in his post, A Short Essay on Enmity.