Because I have to. I am the sort of person who is very inertia driven. So long as I continue to do a thing, I can keep up momentum, but if I skip one day I am likely to just let the whole project slide out of my grasp. So this is it. My page marker, so to speak, for today. I am going to watch a movie with Julie and possibly come back to write more. I should talk about the boat, and my boyfriend-slash-indentured-muse, the sailor. More on that when I return.
---three hours later---
I'm back. We started to watch The libertine with Johnny Depp, but Julie wasn't feeling it at all so we switched to The Pursuit of Happyness with Will Smith, which was pretty good. Frustrating as hell most of the time, but of course it is a feel-good ending that really does warm the cockles of your heart. And it's always nice to see a grown man cry, if he does it well, which Mr. Smith seems to do.
So about the boat. My long-distance boyfriend/muse is moving forward with the motions to be living on a sailboat sometime very soon. He went to look at one yesterday that has a lot of potential. It even comes with a slip in a very nice marina with a gorgeous view of Seattle and my favorite happy-hour restaurant, McCormick and Schmidt, just a few step down the dock. The downfall is the teeny-tiny living space, particularly the kitchen. He was concerned with not having room for any of the pots and pans he is used to cooking with in his apartment. I'm trying to help him make the decision easier by pointing out possible ways around the lack of space issue. I have lived on a sailboat before, and actually the one I lived on with my dad was smaller. He is looking at a 30' fiberglass hull made by Yamaha. It looks really nice from the photos I have seen.
The boat Peter and I lived on was a 24' (possibly 26'?) Catamaran, I believe. It was also a long time ago. I do remember the space feeling very cramped at times, but it was more of a personal space issue that came up for me. The physical space seemed alright. Then again, I still had a room's worth of crap stored at my mom's house so I wasn't trying to load everything I owned into my "crawl-in closet".
He'll continue looking at other possibilities, and there are many in the area. Some are a bit of a trek, an hour or more out of Seattle but it's not like you buy a boat everyday, so it's certainly worth a little energy to find the right one. Particularly if you plan to live in it.
And now... bed. I wish I could say I was crawling into the berth of a sailboat and drifting off to the sound of water lapping against the hull as I am gently rocked by the rhythmic tide, but that will be the case soon enough. It will.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
blogical concerns
Of course I worry about possibly offending someone or hurting their feelings by using them in my stories, but my sister has other concerns about the potential dangers of blogging. She warned me against using stories of my past escapades for fear I might appear less than pure to potential future employers. I suppose that's a valid concern, really. We all like to think we'd never consider working for anyone less open-minded than ourselves, but in today's economy, we may all find ourselves takin' what they're givin' cause we're glad to be workin' for a livin' (as the song goes, more or less).
I wonder about that though. I mean, as a writer, do I have to concern myself with whether or not some future potential employer might take my fiction for fact? Or even use my fact-based fiction as a reason not to hire me? I guess the answer is an obvious "Yes." but I hate it.
I suppose I could start a new anonymous blog and write over there and simply journal pc stuff here. I don't know. I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. So far I don't see much danger in continuing just as I have been. Why complicate things when it's difficult enough for me to keep a blog going for more than a few weeks?
I wonder about that though. I mean, as a writer, do I have to concern myself with whether or not some future potential employer might take my fiction for fact? Or even use my fact-based fiction as a reason not to hire me? I guess the answer is an obvious "Yes." but I hate it.
I suppose I could start a new anonymous blog and write over there and simply journal pc stuff here. I don't know. I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. So far I don't see much danger in continuing just as I have been. Why complicate things when it's difficult enough for me to keep a blog going for more than a few weeks?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Empty House.
I woke up late today. The house was empty.
Signs of Dominic's domination over all things natural and man-made is often astounding. Here's an example (just a small sample) :
The carpet pulled back in spots and rumpled to make room for some sort of train track-festooned island scene gone very much awry. No people at all. Tracks and buildings scattered. Apparently the island of Sodor has been taken over by man-eating zombies and giant Godzilla-like monsters that tear all asunder that stands in their path.
The sofa was in a similar state of disarray. Cushions removed and used to create a fort (no doubt to protect the people from those afore-mentioned zombies and monsters). The cushion-less sofa now acts as a buffet, offering this morning's breakfast leavings: melon rinds, partially eaten waffles, discarded wrinkled grapes and an apple or pear core. Cheerios hide in every crease of fabric, and Popsicle sticks adhere themselves to the tile floor-- riddle-side-down, of course.
A collection of sippy-cups with juice and milk in various stages of fermenting or curdling round out the picture.
And then there are the diapers. Dominic prefers always "to be naked!" so every chance he gets, he removes his diaper, dirty or clean, and stashes it.
It calls to mind this monologue from Hunter S. Thompson:
Signs of Dominic's domination over all things natural and man-made is often astounding. Here's an example (just a small sample) :
The carpet pulled back in spots and rumpled to make room for some sort of train track-festooned island scene gone very much awry. No people at all. Tracks and buildings scattered. Apparently the island of Sodor has been taken over by man-eating zombies and giant Godzilla-like monsters that tear all asunder that stands in their path.
The sofa was in a similar state of disarray. Cushions removed and used to create a fort (no doubt to protect the people from those afore-mentioned zombies and monsters). The cushion-less sofa now acts as a buffet, offering this morning's breakfast leavings: melon rinds, partially eaten waffles, discarded wrinkled grapes and an apple or pear core. Cheerios hide in every crease of fabric, and Popsicle sticks adhere themselves to the tile floor-- riddle-side-down, of course.
A collection of sippy-cups with juice and milk in various stages of fermenting or curdling round out the picture.
And then there are the diapers. Dominic prefers always "to be naked!" so every chance he gets, he removes his diaper, dirty or clean, and stashes it.
It calls to mind this monologue from Hunter S. Thompson:
When I came to, the general back-alley ambiance of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. What kind of addict would need all these coconut husks and crushed honeydew rinds? Would the presence of junkies account for all these uneaten french fries? These puddles of glazed ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junky. It was too savage. Too aggressive.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Family Feasting
Tonight we had Pop and Diane, Jor, and Carla and Carla's daughter Veronica over for dinner. Pop brought chicken curry and Waldorf salad. I made dal and rice and tomato salad. Jor and Carla brought apple/berry pie. Dominic and Veronica raged around for most of the three hours. I think they had a lot of fun.
I stayed in the kitchen most of the time and people sifted in and out so I was never alone for more than a minute or two.
Veronica is at that age where torturing children smaller than her is a fun pass-time. Well, let's face it, isn't that true of all ages, in some way or another? If we were to be completely honest, anyway. At one point she had him trapped in his play tent and she was shaking it and roaring in a scary monster voice and he was crying forlornly. She was having a blast. Another interesting game was where she would press a stuffed animal against his face, forcing his head down against the floor until he managed to squirm his way free. He didn't seem as bothered by that game as the "trapped in the tent by a demonic child monster" game. He's an insane little monster himself, and often begs to have someone do something to him over and over that seems to me wholly unpleasant. I suppose there's no accounting for taste.
For example: The child LOVES to be "torture tickled". You know that horrible tickling your uncle or some other adult used to derive so much pleasure from? The game where he would pin you down and tickle you until you couldn't breathe and nearly peed your pants? You know what I mean. The tickling that doesn't tickle at all, but doesn't exactly hurt. Well, sometimes it hurt. It just felt anything but fun. I remember it all too well. And the adult (in my case, it was Josh) would be howling with laughter while I was quite hysterical and pleading with him to stop. I hated it with all my being. Dominic loves this. He begs for it. I get tired and have to stop and rest. He demands, "Again?! Again?! Tickle me!!"
He also loves prat falls. Anytime he falls down and only hurts himself a little, it's as if he's just discovered the coolest new game and he repeats it over and over, with much glee and insistence on full audience attention while he throws himself over a foot stool, into a laundry basket or onto a pile of toys.
But enough about the "teacup humans".
Topics of conversation among the adults were: California's ailing budget and its effect on public schools; raw foods diet,; the health-care system,; mutual respect and lack thereof between instructors and students in college; composting; potty training; Vita-Mix blenders versus human mastication; and the use of coconut oil as an alternative to butter in pie crust.
Some of the conversations would make excellent blog fodder, but I don't know that I'm ready to write about the adults in my family quite yet. I'm still weighing the merits of sharing good stories over the potential alienation of family members that seems almost inevitable when telling the truth, particularly telling all those idiosyncratic little truths out loud and in public. But God, I want to! Soon I will harden my heart and sharpen my quill, and let the chips land where they may. Who knows, perhaps the outstanding sense of humor that seems prevalent in my family will be strong enough to overcome the little embarrassments or even hurt feelings/egos here and there.
Or perhaps I'll just be seen as an asshole.
I stayed in the kitchen most of the time and people sifted in and out so I was never alone for more than a minute or two.
Veronica is at that age where torturing children smaller than her is a fun pass-time. Well, let's face it, isn't that true of all ages, in some way or another? If we were to be completely honest, anyway. At one point she had him trapped in his play tent and she was shaking it and roaring in a scary monster voice and he was crying forlornly. She was having a blast. Another interesting game was where she would press a stuffed animal against his face, forcing his head down against the floor until he managed to squirm his way free. He didn't seem as bothered by that game as the "trapped in the tent by a demonic child monster" game. He's an insane little monster himself, and often begs to have someone do something to him over and over that seems to me wholly unpleasant. I suppose there's no accounting for taste.
For example: The child LOVES to be "torture tickled". You know that horrible tickling your uncle or some other adult used to derive so much pleasure from? The game where he would pin you down and tickle you until you couldn't breathe and nearly peed your pants? You know what I mean. The tickling that doesn't tickle at all, but doesn't exactly hurt. Well, sometimes it hurt. It just felt anything but fun. I remember it all too well. And the adult (in my case, it was Josh) would be howling with laughter while I was quite hysterical and pleading with him to stop. I hated it with all my being. Dominic loves this. He begs for it. I get tired and have to stop and rest. He demands, "Again?! Again?! Tickle me!!"
He also loves prat falls. Anytime he falls down and only hurts himself a little, it's as if he's just discovered the coolest new game and he repeats it over and over, with much glee and insistence on full audience attention while he throws himself over a foot stool, into a laundry basket or onto a pile of toys.
But enough about the "teacup humans".
Topics of conversation among the adults were: California's ailing budget and its effect on public schools; raw foods diet,; the health-care system,; mutual respect and lack thereof between instructors and students in college; composting; potty training; Vita-Mix blenders versus human mastication; and the use of coconut oil as an alternative to butter in pie crust.
Some of the conversations would make excellent blog fodder, but I don't know that I'm ready to write about the adults in my family quite yet. I'm still weighing the merits of sharing good stories over the potential alienation of family members that seems almost inevitable when telling the truth, particularly telling all those idiosyncratic little truths out loud and in public. But God, I want to! Soon I will harden my heart and sharpen my quill, and let the chips land where they may. Who knows, perhaps the outstanding sense of humor that seems prevalent in my family will be strong enough to overcome the little embarrassments or even hurt feelings/egos here and there.
Or perhaps I'll just be seen as an asshole.
Monday, August 31, 2009
too tired for plundering...
so tonight I shall just ravage.
I had a root canal done today and they had some complications resulting in "excessive bleeding" which had to be cauterized, so I left with a mouthful of burnt flesh and a gaping hole in my mouth. They had to "remove a section of jawbone" as well, so the pain I am experiencing is a bit more than I had anticipated. Apparently it was more than they were anticipating as well, since all they offered me for the pain was some sort of generic Tylenol cocktail. Luckily my dear sister came through with a single leftover Vicodan from her surgery last summer, which I think is actually doing the trick. I still feel a lot of pain when I focus on my jaw, but in general I am feeling VERY relaxed. So much so that I am going to take the easy way out tonight and post this collage of 's on my mind lately. I did take all the photos and cook all the food represented, just not all this week.
Hey! Would you look at that? I managed a paragraph while trying to excuse myself for not following through with a paragraph. Nice.
Oh, and the photos of Miss Kitty's paintings are not taken by me. They are Danny Nicoletta's. They are the two paintings that Kitty gave to me, neither of which are in my posession at this time but I am holding out hope that they will return to me one day.
I had a root canal done today and they had some complications resulting in "excessive bleeding" which had to be cauterized, so I left with a mouthful of burnt flesh and a gaping hole in my mouth. They had to "remove a section of jawbone" as well, so the pain I am experiencing is a bit more than I had anticipated. Apparently it was more than they were anticipating as well, since all they offered me for the pain was some sort of generic Tylenol cocktail. Luckily my dear sister came through with a single leftover Vicodan from her surgery last summer, which I think is actually doing the trick. I still feel a lot of pain when I focus on my jaw, but in general I am feeling VERY relaxed. So much so that I am going to take the easy way out tonight and post this collage of 's on my mind lately. I did take all the photos and cook all the food represented, just not all this week.
Hey! Would you look at that? I managed a paragraph while trying to excuse myself for not following through with a paragraph. Nice.
Oh, and the photos of Miss Kitty's paintings are not taken by me. They are Danny Nicoletta's. They are the two paintings that Kitty gave to me, neither of which are in my posession at this time but I am holding out hope that they will return to me one day.
plunder ravage
The best anagram for my name is Plunder Ravage, which I think makes a pretty darn nifty pirate moniker.
What say ye? Arrr!
So I am supposed to start writing every night (or day) at least one paragraph, just to get my juices flowing or something. I have not really been writing at all for the last several years. Too many years, actually. I really miss being a writer. So I am determined to begin at the very least journaling again. If you are one of the oddball lurkers who actually reads my blog, I apologize in advance. I will more than likely pour pages and pages of useless drivel into this field just to fulfill my daily quota at first. Perhaps it will spark something and you will actually be entertained on occasion. To be honest, this is not about that, at least not for the time being. You may want to check out for a while. In any case, thanks for being patient and I will try to reward you in the future.
What say ye? Arrr!
So I am supposed to start writing every night (or day) at least one paragraph, just to get my juices flowing or something. I have not really been writing at all for the last several years. Too many years, actually. I really miss being a writer. So I am determined to begin at the very least journaling again. If you are one of the oddball lurkers who actually reads my blog, I apologize in advance. I will more than likely pour pages and pages of useless drivel into this field just to fulfill my daily quota at first. Perhaps it will spark something and you will actually be entertained on occasion. To be honest, this is not about that, at least not for the time being. You may want to check out for a while. In any case, thanks for being patient and I will try to reward you in the future.
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