What I Did Today

When I can't write. . .

Bristol Palin on 'Shooting with the Stars': Wisconsin man casts lead vote against her dancing

Bristol Palin on 'Shooting with the Stars': Wisconsin man casts lead vote against her dancing

Really.

Man Shoots Television over Dancing With the Stars. So, apparently the Palins are waltzing their way to the White House.

A few minutes ago DA called me, in hysterics, because she’d just left a long message on someone’s answering machine about last night’s Dancing fiasco. And while she was doing so, a woman answered the phone, slightly out of breath and saying “I’m here! I just walked in,” only to find out it was a wrong number.

The message would have been something like this: Last night on Dancing with the Stars, when it came time to tally up the call-in votes – who will stay, who will leave the show – Bristol Palin remained in the dance. This announcement came as a shock to all, as contestant and viewer jaws dropped. It seems Bristol’s clumsy moves were glossed over and hyped up by hidden Sarah supporters. Mom attended most of the productions.

Oh, and there was at least one viewer opposed to her lasting as long on the show as she has – a Wisconsin man, angered at her inability to dance, went upstairs to get a gun, returned and shot his television.

The upshot? Could a Sarah as president win come in the same, unforeseen way? One consolation: somewhere, the recipient of a wrong number call is now party to the joke.

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled by Olena Kalytiak Davis : The Poetry Foundation [poem] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled by Olena Kalytiak Davis : The Poetry Foundation [poem] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.


From the Poetry Foundation~

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled

by Olena Kalytiak Davis

Reader unmov’d and Reader unshaken, Reader unseduc’d

and unterrified, through the long-loud and the sweet-still

I creep toward you. Toward you, I thistle and I climb.

I crawl, Reader, servile and cervine, through this blank

season, counting—I sleep and I sleep. I sleep,

Reader, toward you, loud as a cloud and deaf, Reader, deaf

as a leaf. Reader: Why don’t you turn

pale? and, Why don’t you tremble? Jaded, staid

Reader, You—who can read this and not even

flinch. Bare-faced, flint-hearted, recoilless

Reader, dare you—Rare Reader, listen

and be convinced: Soon, Reader,

soon you will leave me, for an italian mistress:

for her dark hair, and her moon-lit

teeth. For her leopardi and her cavalcanti,

for her lips and clavicles; for what you want

to eat, eat, eat. Art-lover, rector, docent!

Do I smile? I, too, once had a brash artless

feeder: his eye set firm on my slackening

sky. He was true! He was thief! In the celestial sense

he provided some, some, some

(much-needed) relief. Reader much-slept with, and Reader I will die

without touching, You, Reader, You: mr. small-

weed, mr. broad-cloth, mr. long-dark-day. And the italian mis-

fortune you will heave me for, for

her dark hair and her moonlit-teeth. You will love her well in-

to three-or-four cities, and then, you will slowly

sink. Reader, I will never forgive you, but not, poor

cock-sure Reader, not, for what you think. O, Reader

Sweet! and Reader Strange! Reader Deaf and Reader

Dear, I understand youyourself may be hard-

pressed to bare this small and un-necessary burden

having only just recently gotten over the clean clean heart-

break of spring. And I, Reader, I am but the daughter

of a tinker. I am not above the use of bucktail spinners,

white grubs, minnow tails. Reader, worms

and sinkers. Thisandthese curtail me

to be brief: Reader, our sex gone

to wildweather. YesReaderYes—that feels much-much

better. (And my new Reader will come to me empty-

handed, with a countenance that roses, lavenders, and cakes.

And my new Reader will be only mildly disappointed.

My new Reader can wait, can wait, can wait.) Light-

minded, snow-blind, nervous, Reader, Reader, troubled, Reader,

what’d ye lack? Importunate, unfortunate, Reader:

You are cold. You are sick. You are silly.

Forgive me, kind Reader, forgive me, I had not intended to step this quickly this far

back. Reader, we had a quiet wedding: he&I, theparson

&theclerk. Would I could, stead-fast, gracilefacile Reader! Last,

good Reader, tarry with me, jessa-mine Reader. Dar-

(jee)ling, bide! Bide, Reader, tired, and stay, stay, stray Reader,

true. R.: I had been secretly hoping this would turn into a love

poem. Disconsolate. Illiterate. Reader,

I have cleared this space for you, for you, for you.

Just one more thing -

Via a Facebook friend, I've been turned on to another blog I think I'll seriously enjoy.  It's called Nerdy Apple Bottom  -  Cop's Wife does not remain silent.

The post that got me there was this:

"My Son is Gay  (post title)


Or he’s not. I don’t care. He is still my son. And he is 5. And I am his mother. And if you have a problem with anything mentioned above, I don’t want to know you.
I have gone back and forth on whether I wanted to post something more in-depth about my sweet boy and his choice of Halloween costume. Or more specifically, the reactions to it. I figure if I’m still irked by it a few days later, I may as well go ahead and post my thoughts.
Here are the facts that lead up to my rant:

1. My son is 5 and goes to a church preschool.
2. He has loved Scooby Doo since developing the ability and attention span to sit still long enough to watch it.
3. Halloween is a holiday and its main focus is wearing a costume.
4. My son’s school had the kids dress up, do a little parade, and then change out of costumes for the rest of the party.
5. Boo’s best friend is a little girl
6. Boo has an older sister
7. Boo spends most of his time with me.
8. I am a woman.
9. I am Boo’s mother, not you."

 To read more of this blog post :
http://nerdyapplebottom.com/

In these days of bullying and working through gender identity, and hoping to find a common ground, I find it good to talk like this.  Openly, and without fear.  With faith that it will be okay in the end.  That discovery is the key to many good things in life.  That a little support along the way from loving people make all the difference in the world.

Prompting Poetry - Where to go to get a jumpstart

Here are some links to poetry prompts to get you going, if you're like me today, and are in need of a little kickstart:


The Journal : http://www.davidrm.com/thejournal/tjresources-exercises.php#poetry

Poetic Asides:  (for Poem A Day prompts): http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/

From 32 Poems:  http://www.32poems.com/blog/815/poetry-prompts

From PoeWar:  http://www.poewar.com/poetry-prompts/

Writing Forward:  http://www.writingforward.com/category/prompts-2/poetry-prompts

From Tupelo Press:  http://www.tupelopress.org/poetryproj.php

From Book of Kells:  http://ofkells.blogspot.com/2008/04/30-writing-prompts-for-national-poetry.html

There are many more - these are just a few good ones~

Enjoy!

How We Get There

How We Get There, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Some parts of the journey are clear, others . . .

Dream, Maple Leaves/Seeds

Dream, Maple Leaves/Seeds, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

What was tough was altering the color of these vibrant maples for the effect of making it more antique. But, worth it, for me.

Ways of Seeing, #2

Ways of Seeing, #2, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Water as mirror, as window.

Still Life with Maple Leaves, Water

Still Life with Maple Leaves, Water, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Water make a good mirror, and gives a different way to seeing a leaf, or a tree.

Degrees of Decay, #2

Degrees of Decay, #2, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

I love the veins in leaves, how color eventually blends with gravel and dirt, and begins again.