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May 28, 2003
For Avalyn Elise, Born Last Evening
A Newborn Girl at Passover
by Nan Cohen
Consider one apricot in a basket of them.
It is very much like all the other apricots—
an individual already, skin and seed.
Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.
The next breath you take, a long drink of air.
Holiday or not, it doesn’t matter.
A child is born and doesn’t know what day it is.
The particular joy in my heart she cannot imagine.
The taste of apricots is in store for her.
Posted by pogo at 12:40 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
May 23, 2003
Party Going On
Everyone who didn’t make it to the Ladyfest art opening at Gallery Lombardi last night is strongly advised by me, and everyone else I talked to, to check it out posthaste. It’s truly a shame that the organizers were unable to get more gallery time and that the show is coming down on Monday. It’s a particularly strong group show, forty ladies showing, and every piece solid. Don’t be a chump and miss it.
There’s plenty of other Ladyfest stuff going on this weekend worth checking out, too. My girl Carly is doing a graffiti workshop tomorrow morning at Mojo’s at 11:00 a.m. and (DJ) Katherine is doing a silkscreening workshop on Sunday, and there are a bunch of others to choose from. There will be workshops for video, carpentry, yoga, guitar, vegan cooking, self-defense for women, drag, and so much other stuff I can’t recall it all, as well as a bunch of roundtable discussions that promise to be very interesting and edifying. There’s music, film and spoken word. So much to do. Y’all come already.
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May 22, 2003
Eskimo Pies Coming to You
The coolest thing that I learned yesterday is that in Canada and Alaska, certain indigenous languages are constructed in such a way that, often enough, whole sentences can consist of one gigantic word. In Greenlandic Eskimo the sentiment, “I should stop drinking,” can be expressed in the word, “Iminngernaveersaartunngortussaavunga.” This almost makes up for the disappointment I felt when I learned that Eskimos don’t really have forty words for snow.
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May 20, 2003
Because I Do
I don’t really like weddings. It’s not because I’m opposed to them on any moral grounds (though I must admit that I visibly cringe every damn time I’m at a wedding and the father, or in more “enlightened” circumstances, the father and mother of the bride “give” the woman to be wed. Also anytime they leave in that whole “love, honor and obey” thing. Sheesh.) The thing I hate the most about weddings is that they just seem to be an excuse to (ahem) engage in all sorts of embarassingly sentimental, narcissistic and just plain tacky inclinations for all the parties involved. Not to mention all the god stuff. And the excessive spending. And, well, a whole lot of it. It just makes people weird, they act funny and selfish and lose all objectivity. And they make people wear terrrible and uncomfortable clothes.
I do appreciate the idea of a celebration, the happiness of coming together with everyone you love and just being public, having a small observance of goodness and love and happiness, and having a big party, lots of food, drink, dancing, very informal and very jubilant. I’ve haven’t been to many weddings like that, but I sure have been appreciative, downright pleased as punch, whenver I’ve been in attendance at those few. That’s the ideal.
With all of that said, I really like south Texas weddings. Well, ok, maybe not the weddings so much as the receptions… The actual ceremony I attended this weekend was a little uncomfortable and awkward, and even though it wasn’t a Catholic wedding, it still seemed really long. But it was on a huge, beautiful ranch (complete with cow pies in the pasture to traipse through in open-toed shoes) with yummy smelling flowers and an amazing, clear and starry sky. There was no formality about eating or drinking, but there was a whole lot of it being done. There were ten truckloads of food, wine, beer and even a margarita machine. The music was incredibly diverse, playing an AC/DC song one minute and a cumbia the next. Lots of Tejano trills floating over the fields, plenty of big-haired, heavily made-up ladies dancing with men in Wranglers and cowboy boots, lots of friendly people having a good time, and lots and lots of mosquitoes. Not such a bad way to spend a Saturday night in Beeville, at the very least.
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May 17, 2003
I’m Young and Able to Buzz All Night Long
Today we’re heading off to Beeville.
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May 15, 2003
Here Comes the Summer
It’s finally starting to feel like summer. Billy’s birthday party last night was so nice, everyone hanging out on the porch drinking and talking. Tonight I’ve been invited to a moon-viewing for the lunar eclipse. I’ve been eating fresh green vegetables every day for a week. Music sounds more fantastic than usual. I feel sun-kissed and happy. That may not sound like such a huge thing to report, but I assure you, it is.
Posted by pogo at 03:37 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 13, 2003
Feeling Listless?
My five favorite things about today:
5. Being a monkey in a ball.
4. Reading about the Texas State Democrats breaking quorum.
3. Finally reading words from my pals, the Bad Apples on their European rock star adventure.
2. Receiving two letters from two of my very favorite people on earth, two former roommates at the far ends of the earth, this afternoon. One came from NYC and was a “recipe tree” letter designed to appeal to the prematurely old lady in me. The other came from much further away Gifu City, on inexplicable stationery meant to appeal to the perpetual four year-old in me, as it was bordered with little frogs and rabbits and some peculiar squirrel-bear-deer hybrid that must only exist in Japan.
1. Making delicious Vietnamese curry with continually wonderful Jacob.
Following close behind is gladness that it finally rained, blowing that creepy, brown haze out of the sky and leaving nothing but delicious breezes blowing and gushing creekbeds and the particularly nice anticipation of falling into bed into clean, cotton sheets that smell like lavender.
Posted by pogo at 01:45 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 09, 2003
The American In Me
Why is it that in order to express one’s patriotism, one must drape their home, truck and torso in the American flag? More importantly, in the case of one’s vehicle, why is it that one flag never seems to be sufficient, compelling people to apply more and more flags? Maybe this is just in Texas, but I really doubt it. I tell you, the median, the average number of flags sported by the average automobile driving the short distance from MoPac to my house this morning, was two. Two. I ask you, what on earth for? Do people think that by the time my eyes have made it from the high flying stars and stripes on the front antenna and settled on the rear bumper that I’m going to forget their very deep feelings of pride in this country unless there’s yet another American flag back there to remind me?
I don’t know if this would all bother me so much if those people weren’t constantly cutting me off, doing three lane changes to get to the church on the other side of the road, but the grudge-holder in me needs to note it here.
Posted by pogo at 02:04 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
May 07, 2003
Watching the Detectives
I’m sure that anyone who reads this has grown weary of hearing of my trevails in the world of the unemployed and is probably wondering just what the hell is wrong with me that I can’t even get a job slinging coffee. I’m wondering myself. However, I just had the weirdest “pre-employment screening” experience that I must discuss. It was at a place that claimed to be a detective agency, but just looked like a security guard company to me. Of course, even that was a surprise when I went in. The job posting I read just said “clerical position.” I imagined a real estate company or insurance place, not a teeny office wherein all the walls were lined with black uniforms and everyone inside was a giant, mustachioed man bearing arms.
Not only did I have to fill out a very extensive application, in addition to giving them my resume, I had to answer questions about my gun permits and take two fun quizzes. One was to make sure I was semi-literate. It had a list of misspelled words that the applicant is supposed to correct, words like “batturee,” “victum” and “suspek.” The second quiz was trickier. It’s the sort of thing I’ve encountered before, and you would think I would have learned by now to not be taken aback or flustered by, but no. It was the employee morality exam, replete with true or false questions like, “A thief is worse than a snitch,” and “I often do stupid things.” I’ve been tricked by these sorts of questions before. I have a problem with them. Anyone who says they don’t often do stupid things is either a straight up liar, arrogant as hell or, at the very least, someone I wouldn’t want to be around very often. Aren’t those qualities nearly as bad as thief or a snitch? Anyway, I’m a terrible liar… So, it’s back to scanning the job postings for me.
I would like to take this opportunity to say here that I’m an excellent cook, terribly creative, a great reader of books and a loyal friend. In addition, I can type 55 words per minute, write readable reports, wrangle multi-line phone systems and refrain from stealing all the black ball points in the supply cabinet. Anyone in Austin need help with anything? Anything at all?
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May 01, 2003
Good, Good Things
Do you know what it’s like to go to see your friend’s band play, or to go to their art opening, or some such thing, and to see their amazing work, and be so proud and happy you want to explode? To know what they’ve done is so, so good, and not feel like you have to explain anything to anyone who might have tagged along or make any excuses, but to just stand there, with your shoulders back and a big grin on your face, feeling it all hit you just where it counts and feeling happy and lucky and true.
That’s what the Manikin do for me, every single time. My favorite band in town, for at least three years. They’re fucking fantastic. They played tonight to six of the most grateful, lucky late Wednesday night denizens in town.
You know, sometimes, I just want to gather up everyone, all the truly amazing people I know, and gather them all together in the same place, so I can give them the biggest, sweetest hug and share with them the most sincere thanks and glee. I’m lucky. I know a lot of really amazing people. I just wish they could all be nearer to one another sometimes.
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