a. The nanowrimo community--virtue or vice? How many posts can one community generate on my friends' page about "my characters are Zack, a xenophobic zebra-keeper, Newt, who knows the way to Lorelei's heart, and Charlie, who's a lot like my dad"? I suppose I should invent a novel topic for this year's novel, so that I can post something that says "yo, I'm outlining now for my novel, Chicken Tenders of the Heart, but I'm wondering if anyone has any advice on denouemont choreography. My nanowrimo journal is called chickenhouseblues. Check it out, y'all". By the way, I don't have a title for my novel or a sidejournal for it yet.
b. the fellow from the magazine that is publishing my work
posted my poem in "review draft" for me to review. My "scintillating edit?"--please add the "Jr." to my name. Heaven forbid that my father get credit for my work. I hope this means that publication is imminent. I am still sheepish but intrigued that the bit of personal bio I wrote exactly resembles the kind of rambling personal bio I frequently find amusing in the slightly negative sense in poetry magazines. I must work on being pithy.
c. I hate it when the teasers to a TV show I like actually make me not want to watch the show. Take Everwood--did I really need to know that Delia says something inappropriate at the family dinner where the holistic doc love interest is present? Let's say that for the Andy Griffith show--no "Barney comes to a bold new discovery, and Mayberry will never be the same" promos. Indeed, that show wears awfully well, and the notion that community matters, endemic to that show and to the Waltons, is better than most sitcoms and family dramas today. It's funny how Coupling can use the same scripts as its British forebear and they sound less funny with American accents. It's funny how some shows never wear out. I could watch Hill Street Blues over and over forever, but NYPD Blue in rerun lacks the same zing.
It's funny how intriguing Alicia Silverstone can be, even in a predictable vehicle--"Miss Match" may be the keeper of the year. Why would they put this great show in a Friday night death tomb?
d. This celebrity recall business intrigues me. Perhaps we shoud recall Governor Rick Perry and put a country western star in office. Those country western folks have been dealin with record company waste and bureaucracy for years, and they yodel better than Arnold does.
e. For some reason, I posted 10 of my chess poem booklet on eBay. This is a marketing violation of the Rule of Scarcity.
One copy will sell most of the time, but ten copies on sale will never sell. People like to feel that if they are buying something absurd like a chess poem booklet, they are acting alone. I tried to edit the ad back to one once I realized what I had done during my moment of self-corrosive hubris, but the change won't take. I am resigned to the loss of my 55 cent (or whatever) posting fee.
f. The world is a little bit darker place without Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I thought the show had run its course, but I miss it anyway. Angel is a bit rejuvenated this year. I wish they had done better things with Charisma Carpenter's character than make her a love interest, make her evil, and then coma her off the show, though. There must be a third choice, other than "love interest", "evil" or "dead" or "soulful but undead".
g. I must acquire Babylon 5 in DVD so that I can watch every episode and be able to cite chapter and verse on each portion of the story arc. Then I can attend conventions and everything. I've never been to a sci fi convention. My eldest nephew goes to the national GameCon convention each Summer. He said I should go next year. I wonder if they have a blitz chess room.
h. Today I shall take a morning walk. It's time to return to four days of exercise a week. I love a dawn walk, but I almost never take one. There's some lesson there, but I haven't yet learned it.
i. Today's "what if" time machine--"what if I'd done more with my law degree?". Tune in next week for "what if I'd worked hard at calculus and mastered science?".
j. My favorite rationalization, in a letter I received from someone disclosing (in my opinion, rather needlessly) a personal flaw--"mostly I dream of ponies". Any sin is forgivable, so long as one dreams of ponies.
k. I haven't ridden a horse in years. I felt a tinge of delight admixed with envy when an LA co-worker described taking horse rides with a daughter in Griffith Park, LA's urban park. But here I have the Frisco horse riding place a ten minute ride away, but I have never chosen to saddle up and say "gee" and "haw". But I do regularly quote the key line from the song "Theme from Rawhide" ("don't try to understand them, just rope and throw and brand them"), which must count for something.
l. Every weekday morning like this I fantasize of being at the Park Hill Prairie ponds catch and release fishing for sunfish with cut squid. By Saturday, the urge has entirely left me. Inertia. I suffer from fishing inertia. Last weekend I was drifting lakeward when a mass yard sale diverted me. Hikes are probably nicer, anyway. Better exercise, and no hooks in fish. But I admit I like the thrill of one on the line.
m. Next months our lhasas turn 13 and 9, respectively. It's hard watching playful pets turn old, but we are luckier than most--so far both our dogs are doing quite well. I never thought I'd like a small barky dog, but now I realize that small dogs do much better in small tract homes than the larger dogs we kept (in large yards) when I was a kid.
I have a similar theory about trees--ornamentals which enliven a yard are better than shade trees which are too large for a yard. But shade trees are nice in their own way, even if they dig up sidewalks and overshadow the Bermuda grass. The native ornamentals we planted are having indifferent results. The Mexican Buckeye seems to be hanging in there, but the Eve's Necklace shows signs of iron deficiency. This clay gumbo soil and inconsistent weather is beloved by wheat and grasses, but despised by many trees. Maybe that's why they keep talking about prairie down at the library.
n. When we landed in Denver recently, we saw a massive prairie dog town outside the airport. Things like that make me high, as do large butterflies and fields of flowers. I am an internal Thomas Kinkeade painting.