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Posts Tagged ‘blogging’

You know what the Advent Calender window had behind it on Christmas Eve? Annie insisted that Paul be the one to open it, so I speculated that it would be a picture of Tweedy. But not really. Perhaps a picture of a bottle of Polar Seltzer, black cherry flavor. No. Maybe a fully-decorated Christmas tree. So wrong. It was an ICE DRAGON in the tiny double window. I love my kids!

Got my first iPod nano from Hubby for Xmas. It is tiny, so tiny. I feel dangerous when I have it on. Am I the only one and will this feeling pass? Are there any iPod virgins left? I look forward to loading hundreds of songs onto it. I am figuring it out, but as intuitive as Apple products are reputed to be, I find it klunky and somewhat unfriendly. I also couldn’t figure out how the little fucker clips on to my clothes. Hubby had to show me. Why, Santy Apple Claus, why, do you insist on making me feel dumber than I really am?

Christmas was good. This is the first year since we moved to Western Mass in which I didn’t feel financially stressed more often than not. Eleven years of living in the bliss/hell of self-employment in a New England state, so different than when we lived in Ohio. I am so grateful that our income was more predictable this year. It’s amazing what that does to my ease my mind.

Best present given this year? Behold the perfect gag gift for the consummate lover of Polar Seltzer in our house:

Be afraid, be very afraid!

I am grateful for this blog, for the technology which allows it, for my readers, for the kindness of those who leave comments.

I am grateful that I started writing poetry again and not only that, grateful to be reading it again

Grateful that I was able to take an improv class this year.

Glad that I celebrated 20 years of marriage. Glad that we get to go away to amazing places within a few hours’ drive, stay overnight, eat, shop, walk, swim, hike, visit friends, hear cool musicians, see amazing art.

Grateful that I found out about and saw Gogol Bordello.

Grateful that I got to go to my 30-year HS reunion, see lots of old pals (including my biggest high school crush, which was a hoot), stroll about Kent, Ohio, home of myself, land of the birth of my adulthood*, have that nude photo shoot in a garden in the heat and flower of summer.

Grateful for all the cool music I’ve discovered this year, in part because of the technology and youtube, but more because I do stick to my Music Monday posts. Especially my new-found love for all things Wilco and Tweedy.

Grateful that Willow was in our life.

Annie’s shrine to Willow (detail, not the whole thing), which includes a nail-polish painted (I kid you not, my kids are goofy) white bathroom tile

That is an origami Willow with a little paper bird (crane) in its mouth. Annie must have made a thousand paper cranes on her own this year and went on a bit of an origami adventure. SO GREAT!

My latest fad of photographing bathrooms from our travels. This is from the newly opened Atlantic Pizza Company in Rockport, MA. One of the prettier public restrooms in New England (this photo does not do the bathroom justice)

And this, the environmentally-friendly Euro-loo at The Wired Puppy, Provincetown, Mass

Grateful for any way that a reader might find my blog. Truly, the most abundant search term seems to be some manifestation of “ass tattoo.” That’s not even the most ass of the ass tattoo searches. Ready? I’ve had to live with this and I think if you’ve made it a year here, you will be able to live with it, too: asshole tattoo. You can imagine that I don’t want to know more about asshole tattoos. I do not think someone was thinking, hmm, how many assholes (meaning people who are jerks, idiots, morons) have tattoos? No, I take it as a literal search for tattoos on people’s assholes. First of all, OUCH and second, DUMB and third, if you want a tattoo on your asshole, you’ve come to the wrong place–begone with ye!

Thanks for coming along for the ride this year. Who knows, I may post again before we see the dawn of 2012, but ciao for now and thank you.

With tres mucho love, twinkly

this one is from the uber-tacky, red-and-white tiled bathroom at Five Guys Burger and Fries on Cape Ann

*for some reason, this seems like I’m talking about my maidenhead: why, Santy Claus, why?

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Before Thankful Thursday gets into full swing, the management would like to alert you to the fact that several posts are now password protected; I am exploring new avenues for a few of my poems. I am not, however, ready to remove them completely. (There was one poem a few months ago that was and will remain password protected unless I can edit it to protect the innocent; truly, as it is about children.)

I love my blog and I love putting poems up here; I love the comment section if I’m lucky enough to get comments. At times I’m torn between blogging my poems and simply putting together a chapbook.

A blog is both mutable and stable (as long as one has access to electricity at some point…another irony of a blog’s “permanence”); the fact of the technology blows me away sometimes. I puzzle over it. Knowing that it is only in a nascent state makes it even more amazing and mind-boggling.

What I miss sometimes is reading words off of pages. The computer hurts my eyes. I get tired more easily sitting in front of a screen. I miss touching paper, but I love youtube. I love the speed and the tricks and the access, but I also love reading in bed at night propped up on my queenly down pillows with real paper between my opposeable thumbs and fingers.

On to Thankful Thursday. Some time. Later.

Ciao! twinkly

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What if I throw in the towel and just write a quickie?

Here are some of my intentions and parameters for my blog, vaguely formed, yes, but somewhere in the back of  my mind:

I will not post completely insignificant crap (I know insignificant is relative and that for the most part, it’s all insignificant).

I will not post just because my cat threw up or my kid got an “A” or I had a cold or a broken nose or my car stalled out or there was a storm or my basement flooded or I lost my checkbook or I didn’t sleep enough. Well, something like that. I don’t want my focus to be so narrow that writing becomes a useless habit. However, if I can suss out what is significant and worth my attention around the mundane, if my cat throws up for say, two weeks in a row, or I don’t sleep through the night for the better part of three years, or all of a sudden I will only have sex in the back of a purple-polka-dotted cars, maybe those things are worth a post. If death is inevitable and beauty is all around us, what are the patterns? How does my experience fit into a greater whole?

I will try not to post links to other information without commentary or additional thoughts.  I would likely use Facebook for that. But who knows? I reserve the right to do it here.

I am allowed to be a jerk and I am allowed to make mistakes.

The color on the background of my blog’s “dashboard” is supposed to be a deep purple-y grey, but when I got my new Mac, it turned much purpler and much less subtle. I can’t really tell what color it is to you. Close your eyes and picture it to match the photo of the rocks and to not have any hint of rainbows and unicorns. It is a beautiful and solemn color and I am going to try to change it right now.

Sometimes the technology sucks.

I am allowed to use whatever language I need at any given time, including words like shoulder evil fuck cunt cock halo art angel God god terrible horror goddess feminist crap love gorgeous vulva anatomy vein spider asana fat. I do not fear words and I do not fear what is revealed when the flesh is stripped away.

I am but a speck in the eye of eternity, but I feel my life and labors intensely. The days flash before us and are gone. We are not meant to catch them and only by grace do we succeed in doing so.

I am the product of white privilege.

I do believe that to be human is to suffer and that the only way to be free from this bondage is to learn compassion. I am a pilgrim and a stranger.

I like the notion of opposites. One cannot have dark without light. I don’t believe that one should be positive if it is just an opportunity to beat oneself up for not being positive enough. Being positive is the same as being politically correct. It might be the wrong approach because it can lead to lies and self-delusion.

I do not know if I can write about politics or history though I feel passionately about both. I would like to be accurate and I am not sure this is possible. If I write about these things, it really will take me all night.

I do not use emoticons, but I will engage in ironic acts on occasion.

I am tempted to steal ideas and patterns from other blogs I like, but I haven’t yet for fear of boxing myself in and for fear of engaging in the immoral act of stealing.

I think about it, though. So, I have been doing “Music Monday.” What if I do add a photo day, a recipe day, a rant day, a praise day? I would love to do a word day. How many days in the week are there? Perhaps it could be every-other week, or every third Wednesday. I’m too goddamn busy, creative, and original to deal with these fucking restrictions.

Look at me. Sometimes I am beautiful.

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