Binder Pays Too Much

Binder overpaid me and I am going to cash the check. HA HA HA HA Ha Ha (in sing song). Bad writing slave! Bad!



Money is a kind of poetry.

– Wallace Stevens

Oh God

Horrible day after a nice early morning in Brooklyn with my sister. Black mood hit me like a ton of bricks and I dragged through the day as if slogging through waist high mud. This seems to be a short episode though as I am feeling better this evening. This could be menapause and hormones levels dropping; Friday at work I felt like my head was stuffed with straw and crawled through writing commentary that would have taken me no time two days before. Need to make an appt. with doctor. I am tired of being a crazy lady.

Friday Night Indulgence and Other Scary Things



Friday night...I have eaten Haagan Daz for dinner, watched The Devil Wears Prada and am considering a night cap to finish off my fascinating evening. Too tired after Blunder and Blunder to be good for much of anything on Friday nights. Kids with their dad, thank god. Now if only if a masseuse (sp?) would magically appear and give me a neck and shoulder rub.

Can't stop reading about the massacre at Virginia Tech. What happens to people that they can not only start down that road but continue on once they begin? How does the world keep its children safe? Yesterday a little 9 year girl was snatched from the front of her house in a town close to mine. The driver let the child out a block later as she was screaming and crying. Kate now walks to the babysitter's after school. How can I let her continue that? How can I stop it and take away the independence she was just beginning to enjoy? Freedom and safety, seems we shouldn't have to choose between the two.

On a lighter note, I finally waved the white flag and went out and bought eye cream to repair the signs of aging and diminish fine lines and wrinkles. I'll be damned if it isn't working (although it burned a lot at first). L'Oreal Advanced Revitalift for eyes. I recommend it highly!

One more fascinating subject: a "ghost ship" was found floating of the coast of I can't remember where (Florida?) with one sail shredded and all three crew members gone. Food was on the table and the radio and GPS equipment undisturbed. I say it was an alien abduction. Jr. thinks it was pirates.

I'll tell you how the Sun rose --
A Ribbon at a time --
The Steeples swam in Amethyst --
The news, like Squirrels, ran --
The Hills untied their Bonnets --
The Bobolinks -- begun --
Then I said softly to myself --
"That must have been the Sun"!
But how he set -- I know not --
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while --
Till when they reached the other side,
A Dominie in Gray --
Put gently up the evening Bars --
And led the flock away --

Emily Dickinson

Here Comes Peter Cottontail...

Hippitus hoppitus Deus dominae!

Poems and Falling

I have written a new poem; literally the best thing I've done in years. It is for the project I'm doing with Russ; collaboration of poetry, music and vocals. I can't post it here as I think it should wait to see light of day with completed project, but I am exhilarated! I will however be reading it with several other things a during the feature at the KGB bar. Life is seems full of hope and promise again. I feel like falling in love.

Recuerdo

We were very tired, we were very merry---
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable---
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry---
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
The sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry---
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

Edna St. Vincent Millay