arse poetica

Why, Yes, It *is* for Lack of Trying

Damn you, Twitter! You killed my blog! It's easier to write (and think) in snippets, I won't lie. Coupled w/ the holiday crush and a deadline push, not a lot of extra brainspace 'round these parts. And as always, the insanity of our political reality inspires more catatonia than logorrhea.

For a long time I didn't miss the blog, didn't even care, over it. What the hell else could be said about my hate for Donald Rumsfeld? (Given the endless depths of his venality, a lot probably.) Then as my deadline passed from memory and I was able to relax into reading other things, enjoyable things, articles and essays and fiction -- real, honest-to-god fiction! -- and, as always, it made me want to record a little something here and there. A week later, here I am.

Anyhoo, still alive. More latre as the inspiration (or frustration) comes. In the meantime, here's a pretty picture to further signify the unspeakably boring shoegazey nature of this post:

My shoe, my pal JM's coffee table.

Weekly Record

I'm enjoying last.fm, and I'm thinking I'll post these weekly wrap-ups so I can see how my tune listening maps out over the year. This week: not surprising, though I see a couple of new albums in there, and I remember really enjoying Mos Def. Fun.

Song of the week for all you lovebirds: Rodrigo y Gabriela--Capitan Casanova.mp3

Who, Me?

Ahem.

Not that I know any, but I'm sure some grammer natzee's out there can relate.

Damn, I Love Voting

db and I vote in a historically African American district, and voting day always makes me happy -- I love to see the folks come out -- though I worry about one thing: all the poll workers are getting up there in years. I think this every time I'm at the theatre (or at the Hopper exhibit), too. Where are folks my age and younger? I know they're around, but I only see the traditional supporters of voting/theatre/museums/whatever, and I worry sometimes.

I was much relieved to be voting today on school and municipal bonds and not deciding the fate of the universe as in 2000 and 2004. I simply cannot take another devastating stolen election w/o losing (what's left of) my mind. (Still not over 2000, people, and not going to get over it any time soon.)

Aww, look at patriotic me. I didn't even plan on wearing red (white) and blue. Yeah! Who's a Murka-hater now?? (Actually, we may still be, because 1) that's art behind us, and we all know what a hedonistic, corrupting influence art has on the libidos of impressionable, otherwise abstaining young folk, and 2) it's by a European artist, and we all know what lax morals Eurpoeans have (see pt. 1), not to mention they're a cowardly bunch, and 3) it's a German artist, and we all know that Angela Merkel hates dumbyass, because if she loved him like she oughta she would've let him paw all over her that time at the G8 summit (the bitch!), which just proves that women are too hysterical to be world leaders and the U.S. certainly doesn't need to listen to anyone else in the world about anything.)

/idiocy

Don't Be Hatin'

cos I'm color-coordinatin'.

That's right.

This + Coffee = Me Awake

Mmmmm, delicious beans, delicious sounds. I love Ursula Rucker!

Sixth Sense (Josh Wink feat. Ursula Rucker) (mp3)

Pictured: my desk at work. Not pictured: the other side of my desk piled w/ papers. I still have the lavender, a gift from a coworker, but the roses are gone. Behind both is a deck of Bush cards (Now even more slanted to the right!), which is everyone's favorite thing when they come into my office. Surprisingly, dumbyass is not the Joker; he's the Ace of Spades, which I like to pronounce like "Hades" in his dishonor. I looked for a Jackass card, but the deck didn't have one. (It had 54 of 'em! Ba-dum-bum.)

Okay, I'm awake now. Hi. 

Me Meme Also Spells Me me me

I been meme'd by Sally Greene! The topic is 8 Random Facts About Me, and Sally's are much fun. "Random" is just my speed. Anything more specific, and I'd be in trouble.

1. If I were to run for president -- and y'all remember back when we used to think a regular (intelligent) person couldn't just be president, that it took some special training, a coherent world view, sobriety, a passing familiarity with the Constitution, leadership experience, and not being an insufferable frat boy jackass? How quaint that was. How innocent a time. Anyhoo, were I to run for president, I could actually utter the words "I didn't inhale" with sincerity. Never have.

2. I'm pedantic enough to be annoyed by misspelled spam. I grind my teeth reading those subject lines. Also, I have no idea what the hell OEM software is, but I'm pretty damn sure I'm not in the market for it. That goes double for C1@L1$.

3. For an inveterate list-maker, I'm terrible at Top Tens and such. I don't organize my tastes in hierarchies like this. I love many things, some lasting, some fleeting, and if I'm asked a "what's your top 5 films/books/records/&c." sort of question, I can usually come up w/ one or two before I falter and look to db to remind me. db remembers my Top 5s much better than I do.

4. Famous people I have touched and the cities I have touched them in (in relative order): Michael Hutchence (Charlotte, NC), Bella Abzug (NYC), Betty Friedan (Chapel Hill, NC), Ralph Fiennes (would that there were more to this story, sigh) (London), Lauren Bacall (London), Damon Wayans (LA), Stewart Copeland (LA).

5. I can fence. En garde!

6. To this day I regret the decision to take Calculus my senior year of high school instead of art. Honestly, WTF was I thinking? A colossal waste of everyone's time. I had enough college credits and still I was an idiot. God.

7. There are 8 books on my bedside table right now, because, well, I'm distracted and different moods strike. Essays, poetry, a memoir, 3 novels, and work-related nonfiction. I've started all of them.

8. And in honor of db's remembering more about me than I do, he'd like to add that I nod/shake my head at the TV in anticipation of the person on TV affirming or negating something and that I am visibly appalled when they respond in a contrary manner. Ha.

That was fun. Thanks, Sally!

Color Coordinated

Gettin' my Pippi on.

I'll Take Two(-Thousand)!!

Holy Hannah, where have you been all my life, magic oxytocin spray??

A nasal spray to shed your shyness!

University of Zurich researchers have created a spray that can relieve people of shyness, and help them socialise with others.

The spray is very easy to use, and an individual can boost self-confidence just by squirting it up the nose.

The researchers say that the spray harnesses the powers of a feel-good hormone called oxytocin, a neurotransmitter in the brain that is involved in social recognition and bonding.

The mammalian hormone is produced naturally by the body when a person is in love, and it also induces labour in pregnant women. The spray contains a synthetic version of it, created in the laboratory.

I'm blowing my mind over here thinking of the impact this could have had on my life. Being shy isn't all bad, but it can be significantly limiting in meaningful ways. I've outgrown some of my shyness (not all), but NONE of my introversion. Oh sweet mystery of life, just to be in a quiet house w/ no phone and no commitments, alone w/ my thoughts (db and dogs okay)!

For all you extroverts out there w/ introverts in your life, I heartily recommend this fine article: Caring for Your Introvert: The Habits and Needs of a Little-Understood Group.

Seriously though, I can't get a hold of this stuff fast enough. I wonder how and who I'd be not being me. That said, does the world need more extroverts? Don't we introverts provide balance, some necessary evolutionary purpose -- like being quiet and careful observers of the world's unending wackiness and snarky commenters and sympathetic shoulders to cry on and introspective mooner-abouters? Yeah! The world does need that. I ain't changing for anybody, buddy!

[photo credit: ae @ work, wondering why work has to be so, you know, public.]

Like a Duck to Water

Off to grandma's for a visit -- a little lunch, a little running of errands, a dip in the pool. db's half-fish now, having spent about 112% of his time at the beach riding the waves like a porpoise. Bonus: no jellyfish stings this year! I'm not sure how the fair, healthily pink db managed to ward off the rays of the sun, which felt like it was hovering about 15ft overhead, though the fact that we bought out N. Myrtle Beach's supply of sunscreen level 5 trillion may have had something to do w/ it.

What's the opposite of bellyflop?

Unintended (?) consequences of backflop. Mm hmm.

Two quacks.

Now that's a handsome devil. And the guy's not bad either.