Saturday, July 31, 2004


puddin'n'tame: a euphemism for big d. ol' scratch. el diablo.

q: what's your name?

a: puddin'n'tame. ask me again and i'll tell you the same.

for some reason this is what i was instructed to say as a child when strangers asked my name. hmm. i suppose making me look insane would be a good deterrent against potential nappers. somehow i think my elders were blissfully ignorant of the origins of this call and response. it isn't likely they'd send me into the neighborhood to proclaim my reign over the minions of the under regions.

*                        *                           *                         *                        *                           *

and entirely unrelated-----> enkerchief, to cover with or to enfold in a kerchief. 

hmm. that one's going in the ol' word bank.


pet names...

actual pets i have known and loved:

alowishus. lola. pesto. willie. sloth. bertrand. klaus. pekoe. satchmo. maggie. captain bubblesqueak. scrappy. blossom. ruben. fletcher. lucy. chingaso. semseus. caesar. fud. simon. maybelle. sorbo. sack. sugar. pywacket.

(cat, current)(dog, current)(pigeon, deceased)(dog, present)(cat, present...ancient)(cat, present)(cat, present)(cat, present)(dog, deceased)(cat, m.i.a.)(cat, present)(goat, deceased)(pigeon, deceased)(dog, deceased)(dog, deceased)(cat, deceased...evil bastard)(cat, deceased)(goldfish, fancy, deceased)(cat, deceased)(cat, deceased)(cat, m.i.a.)(cat, neighbors'/fictive/deceased)(cat, deceased)(cat, deceased)(cat, deceased)

actual names for yours truly:

pooh (bear). lungfish. plank. mooie. moo-ox. motsy. ember. spider eggs! juice. mcmuffin. mercr'y. milkshake. mercr'y mild. m. dollar. bug.

shit (bear) or bear of very little brain. blech. anatomical. bovid. bovid. grandmotherly. hot. breakfast cereal expletive! can't recall. alliteration. ?. i shake it. ??. mysterious. monetary. grandmotherly.


Friday, July 30, 2004

what a little moonlight can do...

how is moonlight such a thing apart from sunlight? tonight: fire hydrant, red without doubt; carriage house color of goldenrod; silver thistle along the mercantile fence. and everything, everything filtered, milk-blue, sighted through membrane and caul.

tonight's combination: green tea and chocolate. i could call it sencha and chocolate. sencha and chocolate. cent shy and chalk a lot. sancho and cock a lot. what happens if i call it sancho? it means he comes quietly. he comes, quietly. succumbs quite(ly). sucks crumbs quickly. sets drum nicely. sexed on nightly. sent up brightly. softened child'shly. so often changling. 's on chambre. sun change late.

anyway. it's a great wide nation. when i drift off to sleep it will be nearing dawn on the other side. mussel strewn atlantic. morning pelicans. birds sing. sunrise over a tim horton's. :)




Thursday, July 29, 2004


for some reason or other i had the burning desire to know how to spell sleestak. like land of the lost. cha-ka. rafting etc. my dictionary is useless, being of mid-fifties-ish stock. who to turn to? imdb, of course. sleestak. phonetic. darn! i was hoping for something a little more otherworldly. something evocative of lizard-men.

on the lam...

today while i was away from the house, toiling, i received a phone call. lola had jumped the fence. this is what i get for having a sheep herding dog. she can jump like the dickens. she doesn't like to be parted from me. obviously, i couldn't just run away from my duties and chase around after her. i sent my siblings to do it for me. what a good thing to have them so close at hand. before long, i saw my brother drive by with lola in the cab of his truck. but at the end of the day, on my trek home from toil, who should be sitting in the green shade of the walnut trees at the mouth of the alley? yes. lola dog. just waiting. and when i scolded she smiled a gigantic grin and behaved like a total suck up. and it worked. easily charmed, i am. it was unclear how she made this second escape. the mystery was soon solved, however. yup. she just tore through the brand new window screen and jumped out the window. grr. what love. maybe i should train her to use the front door. far less costly that way.


almost forgot...

we play games when standing in a queue...or on line if you are in nyc (hello, wi). we play the "ate" game. ready for excitement? sure, why not. i say, "micturate." you say, "flagellate." i say, "navigate." you say, "truncate." etc. see? oh, but that's not all. you could say, "weight!" and i could say, "wait!" it's the rhyme as is important.

scoff if you will, but it is better than standing unoccupied for two miserable hours behind the guy with the naked, seeping arm wound. band-aids, people. i invented them for a reason!

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

i'm a little teapot...

stuff and nonsense. i'm not a teapot at all. but i have a little teapot. it's brown and enamel. the handle is some kind of bamboo-ish material. i paid something like $2 for it at the goodwill. that was last winter, i think. if it is possible to have a crush on the inanimate then i have a crush on my teapot. i'll seek out an analyst. i swear.

when i look at the little pot i hear jo-jo richman sing, "and the avocado green appliances/with the smell of domestic violences/and the dusty farberware/ and the rusty dinette chair/ and the lonely little thrift store/ the hard luck little thrift store where i go/ yeah! allright!" hmm. or something like that. i tend to mangle lyrics.

once, when i was in high school, richman played a show about eight miles from where i live. it was a 21 and older show, tho. i was never more angry at my genetic make-up. unlike a good many of my friends, i was disastrously underprepared and underdeveloped to fake my way through the door. damn!

aaaand cue rambling.

wonka meets big ben...

what happens when i nap. i enter an observatory. the kind that exists in dreams. the kind that perches on an impossibly tall space needle. above the sea. then i see a map in my mind. portent. an earthquake will come. i watch the progression on the map. it reaches the needle. the observatory splits like an apricot, halved. lands in the sea and skiis at intense speeds across the water. catastrophic. suddenly i'm in a a town clock, rather. candy pinks, oranges, yellows. like a hideous salt taffy. or the price is right. yep. come on doooown! every time i make for an opening the gears move. grind. shift. the escape is blocked. like a giant mouse trap. and then it chimes. dear god. i cannot cover my ears and crawl over obstacles at the same time. so. i either sacrifice my hearing or die like a rat. i choose lose my hearing. i begin climbing over and around. the various pendulums sway. the chiming is making me insane. but i can see the door. intent on escaping. finally, i reach the fresh air. the fresh air is peopled by characters straight out of time machine. eunich-ish eloys (sp?). androgenous. vapid. scary.

hmm. best not to get too jungian this early. i'll spare you the rest of the dream.

on the main street in town (i mean my town, the real and actual place from which i type this, not the candy place of dreams i've just described) there is a building that stands out. yes. one of these things is not like the other. one of these things just isn't the same. it was once a quonset hut. when i was small (and for many years before i existed) it was a restaurant called the rainbow hut. i thought that was rather inventive. we didn't put these arches here for no reason. that would be silly! no. we planned it that way. it's a rainbow.  and for as long as i can remember the same people ran the place. an old couple. to me they were always old. but the husband had hair that never lost its glamorous youth and vigor. he had movie matinee idle hair. lots of it. it remained black until he kicked over. black with a skunk of silver near the temples. carefully pomaded. tres flores. side-part. he wore coke bottle glasses and chain smoked on the stoop. i see the stoop every day when i walk to the post office. for some reason i'm writing about it here. why's that? don't know.


consult the doodlebug...

dowsing. that's two copper whisps or a branch with forks, a grip for gripping pigeons-- not too firm, not too slight. mostly looking for water. sometimes it's a search for the lost item, whatever it may be. the tool consulted is called a doodlebug. familiar. if one is looking for the lost item, one has to hold the object in the mind. concentrate. the branch dips. the copper crosses. there is the object beneath your feet. bodies are mostly water. hearts, too? suppose so. hold the object in your mind. find it below your feet. see also: water witching.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

old maid...

when i was wee we played old maid. i've just discovered where i can get hold of one of the old maid decks. guitar gary. backhand betty. artist annie. moonwalker wally. all that is required now is a bag of pick-up sticks, a barrel of monkeys, and a bowl of frozen blackberries.

hmm. but, "who cares for you? you're nothing but a pack of cards!" i don't know.

Monday, July 26, 2004


last post of the evening. promise. went for a quick walk. sometimes the sky is a color like green. not quite green. jaguar green. black-green. no, that's not it either. but, yes, panther green. it is that color right now. my favorite color of sky. and the moon has a lime sheen. and the air smells like new corn and dew. damp hay. and the crickets fiddle from the trees. a train through the center of town and its call rebounds. like being in the core of a wurlitzer. crackling tracks. dogs raise a rucus. hush and homeward.

it's a quiet riot...

in the bulk herb section of the health foods store the labels have begun to wear away from the apothecary jars. and so it was that i read one as "pleurisy riot" rather than "pleurisy root." the most underwhelming of riots.

ensure your personal charm...

to the health food store today with sister in tow. i wanted one bar of bee and flower sandalwood soap and a bottle of sandalwood hand lotion. they had neither. instead, i purchased a bar of chandrika ayurvedic soap. packaging instructs: always use chandrika to ensure personal charm. shit. had hoped to pick up bee and flower later on. but clearly it would be madness. must keep my personal charm intact.

they had reed's all natural jamaican style ginger beer. yum. i feel as though i have rooted through a ginger patch. i've never rooted through a ginger patch. i speculate.

the sister selected sparkling pear soda. after imbibing she waltzed through the room in the wake of an explosive belch and declared herself king of the jungle. king. aye caray (<---i spelt it wrong? me no know. oh brother-ish).


Sunday, July 25, 2004


tonight i met oscar. well, i met him some days ago, but at the time he was just the little guy who missed the train. this evening he told me he was from honduras. he left home to travel, ride the rails and write about all that he sees. he has seen some things. and now i have seen him. and it was good.

as i walked home in the dark a barn owl flew behind me, between me and the moon. a giant shadow swift along the ground. "ohhhh." and heads turned just in time to see blunt white wings hinge, unhinge, into darkness.

am preparing to consume some mushroomy risotto. i have consumed much this evening. a giant artichoke. so. dang. good. and a little bowl of triple vanilla ice cream. i feel like i could eat anything so long as it held still long enough to finish the deed. i can't eat at work. it's difficult, anyway. making up for lost time now. poor form. should pack a lunch. yes.

will listen to a little bit of sleepy nick drake (safe as milk) and try to chase away the othar turner playing over and over in my head. drum and fife is fan-diddly-tastic. but it, too, has its limits. yessir.




never a frown with golden brown...

lola is black and white. she's the larger of my dogs. a mcnab. extremely possessive of me. in the evenings, after a certain hour, every time i open the door she thinks we are leaving. her bark is shrill. and she barks. repeatedly. gives me the face of love. i walked her earlier than usual this evening so i could go out again sans dog. i'm not sure why i decided to go solo on this second walk. i really like having lola loping at my feet. hmm.

the moon was setting. i had to turn down the alley. passed under the black walnut tree and mistook a low branch for a person. had a moment of "what the fuck do you want?" and then felt stupid. i don't normally address people i've just nearly run into with "wtf?" but considering the hour and proximity it seemed reasonable. the alley was the color of pitch. i felt the branch. not palpated but felt. like sound being muffled. and i behaved like lola and stiffened, fronted, took the offensive. and then realizing, pulled the l.e.d. from my pocket and shimmered it around. ersatz firefly. ice blue.

and now i'm home again. i'm thinking about this one person and how i wish there were two of him. i suppose two is not better than one. no. certainly not. certainly not. one is the better number. however heartbreaking.

anyway, listening to stranglers belt out golden brown. a jar of queen anne's lace on the table. plucked along the railroad tracks yesterday. i've never found one with the crimson fleck at the center. until yesterday. lovely. also along the tracks is the husk of the severed raccoon.  but that's another story, i suppose.

Friday, July 23, 2004

a little about war...

hmm. here's a little about war. i didn't write it. some guy called voltaire did. don't worry, i won't make a habit of quoting people. but today i received a letter from my friend who is stationed in iraq. i went to school with him. i'm feeling a little blue. probably not as blue as him, tho.

"peoples fall upon one another, not only without personal interest in the affair, but without knowing what it is all about. five or six belligerent powers, three against three, two against four, or one against five, all detesting one another, unite and attack by turns; the only point of agreement is to do as much harm as possible.

the most wonderful part of the infernal business is that each leader of murderers causes his colors to be blessed and, before setting out on carnage, piously invokes god. if a leader kills only a couple of thousands he renders no thanks to god for so small a favor, but when he has wiped out ten thousand by fire and sword, and leveled a town to the ground, he bursts out into a paean of thanksgiving....

what's the use of humanity, beneficence, modesty, temperance, mildness, wisdom, and piety if a couple of ounces of lead go through me and i die at the age of twenty in inexpressible torments, amidst a thousand of my dying ears hear as their last sound the cries of women and children perishing under the ruins? and all for the interest of some man i don't even know!"

i told you i was blue. i'm also in a bit of a funk. not like george clinton, but that other sort.

what a terribly long quote! there should be laws. honestly.

well, it is high time that i took the dogs for their evening perambulation. yes. g'night.


curtsey while you're thinking what to say...


i suppose i should begin at the beginning. i'm just not certain what beginning to begin with. so. how's about i start with peanut butter since it is the first thing i have espied since typing commenced? good. there is a jar of peanut butter over there. over there is the other side of the kitchen. i type in the kitchen. i type with two fingers and two thumbs and a small black butterfly spaniel dozing by my feet. incidentally, small black butterfly spaniels have special fondness for peanut butter. yes. in fact, they seem to like the esteemed ground nut in all of its varied forms. the roasted, salted, shelled variety. the unsalted, roasted, in-shell sort that i feed to the blue-jays. cacahuates japones. peanut butter. cookies made with peanut butter. thai praram. etc. and now i'm bored with all of this peanut talk.


you will notice that i don't use caps. i'm not trying to steal e.e.'s thunder, i'm just a terrible typist. see aforementioned. i'm not on good terms with the shift key(s). use them sparingly. yes.


now is the time i should shake your paw and tell you my name and all of that jazz, but not today. i'm going to be a little anonymous for a spell. i know, it isn't a very bloggerly thing for me to do. it's probably a chicken shit thing to do. but there you are, i'm a little bit chicken shit. hmm. so as not to seem unfriendly, tho, here are a few facts:

1) when presented with this: check one (m) (f). i check the latter, being female and all.

2) despite my apparently atrocious grammatical combinations, when pressed i can and do turn out a perfectly crommulent sentence or two. same with punctuation. if forced, i can apply punctuation with lovely results. just don't look for it here. please. you'll be disappointed.

3) i attended a writing program in america's corn belt in order to do poetic gymnastics. jump through fiery hoops etc. if you know of which i speak, please, don't hold it against me. i'm not saying you would. you seem like good people. but then, let's not be hasty. we've only just met.

4) i like plants. life long obsession. wanted to be a botanist. now i just like to grow things.

5) birds are anonymous. why? i can't get over it. can't wrap my brain around that one.

6) i am still young...ish. i guess. i'm not sure this matters. but just in case it's keeping you up at night.

7) i like reading weblogs. i find them fascinating. tonight i decided to jump inside the fishbowl rather than just stare at it. i'm not sure why. i'm not even sure if i'll stay in the water. if i start looking all pruney and pale i might have to hie back to the dry land. yarrgh.


okay. that will be all for this evening, methinks. i'm tuckered. g'night.