Worked on my "one-shot" poem, hope the ladybugs on the booklet cover don't look as silly in general as they do to me.
Drenched in self-doubt over something I said--self-doubt is my least favorite emotion. Storms predicted Saturday and Sunday--need some cleansing rain.
I can't believe it. My terrarium was planted
in the little mason jar on Sunday with
marigold seeds. By Thursday evening, the first sprouts have already appeared. Terraria are like
microwaves--they cook everything much faster.
We're still some weeks from the really critical part, though--will an excess of that fertilizer soil in the bottom of the jar lead to early
nitrogen burn and snuffed out 'golds?
Last night I bought another jar--this time a little water jug with fountain spigot. Will it be a wildflower mix, or will I put in tropicals?
Such trivial decisions can make my world a better place.
I am amazed at how much poetry I can write when
I set aside anxiety about its quality, and just
let flow who I am, however silly that may be.
We went to Gopal, an Indian vegetarian buffet, for dinner. Wonderful dishes--never felt the lack of a beef entre. I love the way those metal
plates in places which don't use china have different shapes cut out, presumably to make different food shapes work better. I'm immune to such organization.
We met friends at Uncle Calvin's Coffeehouse, the
Friday night folk show in the basement of the Presbyterian Church in Richardson. We were a few moments early, so we stopped in at Northpark Mall. I picked up Alice Cooper's Greatest Hits
and we laughed and sang along to "I'm Eighteen" on our way to soak up folk. When I was 14, at dances in Gurdon, Arkansas, "Love it to Death" and "Killer" were rivalled only by kids doing the frog to "Superfly" or slow dancing to "Pieces of April" when it came to happening young teen music.
I hadn't been to Uncle Calvin's in years; what a great venue. The opening act was Caroline Herring, who's a country/folk singer originally from MS and now from Austin. She did a song based on the life of a slave mistress who was on the master's arm during his life, but consigned to the fields when he became insane. The song was not preachy or tear wringing. In Texas, we tend to just tell the story--we may tell it a bit tall, but tell it we do. It told the story, and that story was all that was needed. I had to pick up Ms. Herring's CD; thank heaven she was good at opening jewel cases to give me an autograph, as I can never get all that plastique title stuff off the top. The "headliner" was Pierce Pettis, a more "new folk" type from Alabama. His first set was light and amusing, and then everyone went to get tea and cookies from the nice folks who volunteered. His second set, though, was really gripping--songs about home and faith that were spiritual in the right way, never preachy, not dogmatic, not "cutesy". A very good evening. We must do more folk evenings.
On the way home, we sang along to School's Out.
I can still do the falsetto on the chorus.
I fantasized during the folk concert that it would be fun to hear my favorite progressive rock
anthems redone as folk songs, to see if anyone would notice. Then I imagined a much more guilty pleasure, bringing Geddie Lee of Rush, of all things, as my "special guest" at my fantasy Uncle Calvin's Coffee House appearance. I could just hear he and I singing "Lakeside Park"...."Lakeside Park, willows in the breeze/Lakeside Park, so many memories.....and everyone would gather/on the 21st of May/sitting in the sun to watch the fireworks display/lighting candles on the beach/singing songs together/though it's just a memory, some memories last forever"....ahhhh, guilty pleasures...silly folk fanstasies, and a ringing falsetto.....