today I was happy

TODAY I WAS HAPPY,
SO I MADE THIS POEM

James Wright

As the plump squirrel scampers
Across the roof of the corncrib,
The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness,
And I see that it is impossible to die.
Each moment of time is a mountain.
An eagle rejoices in the oak trees of heaven,
Crying
This is what I wanted.

another trip - no bus or train

On Wednesday my husband and I are flying to
Utica for a big family gathering and wedding.
I myself prefer small gatherings, another person
and myself...or just myself, but that's for another
posting at another time.

I like to travel with one poetry book and one "I'm
hooked" fiction book and some old New Yorkers.
I have not selected the fiction, but I am taking
Risking Everything -110 Poems of Love and
Revelation edited by Roger Housden. Some of
our favorites in here: Cummings, Collins, Neruda,
Oliver and Rilke. Tomorrow I'll treat us to a
short poem by James Wright.

Now you need to read a touching farewell
piece by The Great Plotnik - delightful.
The Great Plotnik

am I on the wrong track?

At the end of September I'm taking Amtrak from
San Jose to Goleta to spend a few days with my
three dear friends who live down there. I bought
my tickets at the Amtrak station in San Jose last
Tuesday. My friend Michael is visiting this week
and I told him that I thought it was ODD that I have
two tickets - long story (boring). Anyway, he looked
it up online and it seems that I am taking a BUS from
San Jose to San Luis Obispo (SLO). Why didn't the
ticket seller mention this? Why am I taking a BUS when
I bought a train ticket? I feel like I'm dealing with some
government agency here - oh wait, Amtrak is...
Anyway, I told Michael just now that this whole thing is
going to be blog fodder and I'll stick with the hand
that I was dealt. Stay tuned...

i'm gaining on you, Lance

A couple of months ago my husband bought a
perfectly fine stationary bike at the Salvation
Army for $50.00.  My excuse for not using it
(more than twice) is that I get bored too quickly.
So today we splurged on a TV at Best Buy ($73)
and then had to go back for an antenna ($13)
and now it is all set up in the garage and I'm
sure there's nothing I want to watch on daytime
television right now.

However, I do want to report that the Toynase
(spelling?) van up there on Harrison next to Best
Buy does have the Best Cubano sandwich in the
city ($6) and next I'm going to try the Large
Taco ($5) and then for sure I'll bike my little
heart out while watching my soaps. It takes 30
consecutive days to get a good habit going, and
about 10 seconds for the bad ones.

naked ladies

naked ladies
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Think of all the disappointed
folks who search this photo out
by the tag I gave it on Flickr.
Anyway, these gals are in our
back yard and have been with us
for 10 years now. Bill, Ginger
(currently in Kansas) and I spent
a glorious week in a rented house
in Mendocino in 1996. Ginger gave
us a Naked Lady bulb because they
grow wild and don't seem to need
any sunshine. We spent the week
in front of the fire, taking walks
and watching the Braves/Yankees
World Series. Yankees beat the
hated Braves - what a fine week
it was.

buses, trains, bad food

Today my husband and I took the train to San Jose,
but first had to take two buses (both late, of course) to
get to 4th and Townsend with only 3 minutes to spare to
catch the 10:07am Caltrain. The trip itself was so pleasant
with lots of room to spread out (we each took two seats)
and of course it beats driving and there is a lot to see,
although it seems that the ugliest parts of cities are
right by the train tracks. Interesting, if not beautiful.
The last bullet train is around 9am, but our non-bullet
only took an hour and a half, and we were not in a hurry.

The San Jose train station is right across from the HP
Pavilion (an unattractive monstrosity) and we walked
about 7 blocks to the heart of downtown. I was amazed
to see people in actual summer clothes without coats
or heavy sweaters and we were able to eat lunch
outside and be perfectly comfortable.  Since we are
San Francisco food snobs, we were not impressed with
the wilted lettuce salad or cardboard sandwich, and
the prices were high even though San Jose doesn't
have the $8.75 hourly minimum wage law that SF does.

It was a good mini-adventure, however. San Jose is
clean and quiet and sunny and sane.  I was glad to
get home to just the opposite.

farewell ruth, david, nate, claire

...Brenda, Maya, George, Rico and the entire extended
family of 6 Feet Under. I just wept through the final
episode and feel like some of my closest friends are
gone forever. Even though the program would often
irritate me (they surely did whine sometimes), the
writing was superb and the acting phenomenal. I
loved how every program would start with a death
and some of those were shocking and unforgettable.
Now I need to get used to life without the Fishers
and it's not going to be easy.

imagine - two gingers!

Today I had a delightful lunch with my other Ginger
friend who lives in Santa Barbara.  We talked about
Italy, friendship, fog/relentless fog, her 3 dogs, her
snake dress, movies, 6 Feet Under, the Orange Man
in Goleta, writing and even (gulp) money. Then I
went to see two of her dogs who were sleeping in
The Great White van but bounced up excitedly
when Ginger unlocked the door. (I know, you need
photos, and you'll get them in October.)

I am taking the Amtrak to visit her and my other two
friends in SB at the end of September and we are
making plans about what to do and see.  Lots of
dog walks and we are going to work on a writing
project - a long hike Ginger and her husband Ern
took a few years ago.  She has a journal, she must
find the journal....

How fortunate I am - friends make my life so rich.

mr. ferlinghetti

The beat poet, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, lives here in
San Francisco and this is a lovely quote from him:
Poetry is the sound of summer in the rain
and of people laughing behind closed shutters
down a narrow street.

my city

There is a dilapidated powder blue car parked in
just the right amount of space in front of our
house. It allows us to park there by our front
door, using half of our driveway. Parking and
housing prices are the two main topics of
conversation in San Francisco.  This silent
agreement between our neighbor and ourselves
is a major accomplishment.

The blue car never moves - it was probably
created back in the 50's. Once in a while our
neighbor will open up the hood or climb under
his car, but we've yet to hear the motor turn over.
This is as it should be.

Today I walked outside and there was a young
woman sitting on the sidewalk with lots of
paint tubes and brushes surrounding her.
"What are you painting?", I asked.
"The Hudson", she answered with a smile.
"Oh."  (Me being dumbfounded.)
"Is it yours?" she asked.
"No, it belongs to the neighbor", I said
and pointed.
I had to look down and see her work and it
looked ever so much better than the old car
that never moves. I love this city.

aqua fresca

Today's writing prompt:
BE THE WATER
I have been thinking about this all day while
I counted money for the bank deposit, dealt
with a couple of unhappy customers, called
corporate to find out why the computers
and the phones were all dead, picked up my
project at Kinko's and talked to my fellow
managers about a new hire.
I so appreciate having something other than
work to think about when I'm working.
However, I still have no idea what I will write
about - would you?

back in the game

Suddenly the Giants are playing extremely well and
I'm back to the breathing with every strike. There is
really nothing quite as exciting as a well-pitched,
tight game that we win. The kind of game where
I have to watch from the other room because it's
too scary to be too close to.  On the other hand,
the A's have crumbled way before I thought they
would, they usually save that for September.

walking on goldsworthy

de young floor
Originally uploaded by the omster.

You will have to click to
enlarge this photo of the
new "faultline floor" here
at the entrance to the new
De Young Museum in Golden
Gate Park. Those lines run
up and through the stone
slabs...like a real fault-
line. Andy Goldsworthy
brought all of this from
Yorkshire: stones, slabs?
How? It's beautiful, but
easy to overlook. Sorry,
you can't really see the
entrance doors here...

jen is in Paris

Notre Dame Gargoyles III
Originally uploaded by omj.

Today we were discussing
a man sleeping on the 4th
floor of our store. We
all had guesses as to
which of our sleepers it
was: guy in the jean
jacket? the stalker? Mr.
Smell Bad? But Jen gets
to go to museums and to
Notre Dame to look at
these gargoyles that I
found on Flickr.

another billy collins poem

This is from the New Yorker, 7/25/05

     STATUES IN THE PARK

I thought of you today
when I stopped before an equestrian statue
in the middle of a public square

you who had once instructed me
in the way of equestrian statues.

A horse rearing up with two legs raised,
you told me, meant the rider had died in battle.

If only one leg was lifted,
the man had elsewhere succumbed to his wounds;

and if four legs were touching the ground,
as they were in this case --
bronze hooves affixed to a stone base --
it meant that the man on the horse,

this one staring intently
over the closed movie theatre across the street,
had died of a cause other than war.

In the shadow of the statue,
I wondered about the others

who had simply walked through life
without a horse, a saddle, or a sword --

pedestrians who could no longer
place one foot in front of the other.

I pictured statues of the sickly
recumbent on their cold stone beds,
the suicide toeing the marble edge,

statues of accident victims covering their eyes,
the murdered covering their wounds,
the drowned silently treading the air.

And there was I,
up on a rosy-gray block of granite
near a cluster of shade trees in the local park,
my name and dates pressed into a plaque,

down on my knees, eyes lifted,
praying to the passing clouds,
forever begging for just one more day.

Billy Collins

the New Yorker

One day soon I will be copying another Billy Collins poem
that was in a recent New Yorker.  My husband marked
it and said, "for your blog?" and he will often comment
on a short story, poem or article that he particularly likes
and doesn't want me to miss.  That is one of the things
that we have in common, we both love the New Yorker.

I grew up in a Life Magazine household, but when I had
orthodontia work done in high school, the dentist's office
kept this exotic (to me) magazine in the waiting room.
As soon as I graduated from college I subscribed and
have loved the magazine ever since. The covers, too,
of course, are outstanding.  I'll never forget the one
after 9/11 - just a big solid totally black cover.

My love for the city of New York was probably
influenced by the magazine, too.  I'll type up the poem
for the blog tomorrow - it's a good one.

we love secrets

Here's a nifty little community blog where
people tell their secrets in a safe and
(maybe) anonymous way. I don't know if
I have the necessary art talent, but like most
of the world, I do have my share of secrets.
So have a look-see and enjoy...
PostSecret

in a writing mood

Tonight is Tiapos (my writing group) and I have a
small first draft piece about our upcoming trip to
Utica, NY, for our grand daughter's wedding. I
tried to make it a little amusing, even though I
am not looking forward to this huge celebration
with family members from all over the globe.
But I'm sure it will be fine...

I'm hooked

I started two books worth reading a few weeks ago,
but I can't seem to get into them, so I borrowed
a copy ofThe Broker by John Grisham. What fun!
Bruce Almighty recommended this as his August
Staff Selection and I wondered if the original great
story teller Grisham had returned, and it seems as
though he has.  I believe he got a bit lazy or dried
up or whatever for a few of his books there in between
the original "big hits" and the last ten or so average
(or less) novels.  But this is a superb story - fast moving,
with just the right amount of tension that builds from
the very first page. So, back to Italy...

always amending

In the tomato recipe below, you'll want to cut
the big guys into nice wedges and the little
cherry size stay as they are.  Best to wash them
all too - like, der...

tomatoes a la plotnik

There are 3 glorious things about August:

1) blueberries
2) tomatoes
3) naked ladies (the pink wild flowers -
       photo to follow one day soon)

Today we went to Whole Foods and spent
$20 on tomatoes - all colors, all kinds.
Last year The Great Plotnik gave me this
easy recipe for a BIG bowlfull of splendor:
.lots and lots of tomatoes
.thinly sliced red onion marinated in
   lemon juice and kosher salt (put in later)
.basil leaves, chopped - from your garden
.tablespoon red wine vinegar
.tablespoon balsamic vinegar
.3-4 tablespoons olive oil
.kosher salt
.lemon juice
Let the whole thing stand in the cool and
foggy SF climate - add the red onion
and serve with expensive bread as a salad
or even a main dish. (Taste it first, adjust)

another goodbye

I'll always connect the Millennium with Peter Jennings
who wore a tuxedo and worked from one edge of
the continent to another.  Our anchor of choice
died too young and too soon and even though ABC
had to show a football game tonight, the other news
stations talked about his life.  It turns out he was an
anonymous volunteer at a soup kitchen in NYC,
among other notable accomplishments. He was a
good and compassionate man.

it's easy not to write

I've been struggling to say something pithy
here in this blog and feeling guilty when I don't
write, or fill-in with photos and poems.  The
first and most important thing I learned when
I started at the Writing Salon 3 years ago is
that I don't have to be in a writing mood to
write.  I just have to write. That's really all
there is to it.  So here's a quote (to fill).

It's easy, after all, not to be writer. Most
people aren't writers, and very little harm
comes to them.
     Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

If I wanted to take the easy way out, obviously,
I wouldn't have taken all the writing classes
and filled my house with "How To Write" books.
No pain, no joy, no new group of writing friends
who mean so much to me. Onward.

not for the misbegotten

I'm ashamed to say I had to look that word up, even
though I've seen the play twice. It means of
illegitimate birth or of dubious origin.  As an adopted
child, I was always sensitive to the "illegitimate"
word and am pleased that we live in a time and in
the Bay Area, where I don't hear that word used
about children anymore. It's just plain mean.

But, I did want to write about the moon over there
to our right. Thank you, Michael, for somehow
getting it from the moon web site to my blog. For
one thing, we can now tell for sure if Ryan's
sleep issues coincide with the full moon.  She is
only 21 months old and her father has A Theory
about the full moon and her snooze button.

I do know for sure that our customers get crazier
when the moon is full, so now I can plan ahead
and prepare myself for dealing with those moon
soaked men and women in the weeks ahead.

Oh, you can click under the waxing crescent and get
right into the web site.  How cool is that?

hear the bells?

SF city hall
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Last Tuesday, our dear
friends Kristin and Bill
were married here at San
Francisco's beautiful
City Hall. Their two
daughters (Claire and Ryan)
were the witnesses and then
they had a festive lunch at
Max's where Ryan (21 months)
played happily with all the
items on the table. It
was a happy day indeed for
everyone (except maybe the
waitress).

back to class

The Salon Mistress just asked me to do some daily
writing (for a week) as a substitute in the Round Robin
class. Perfect timing because I have been using the
term "writer's block" when I really should be saying
"lazy, lazy" and haven't written much of anything
for a week or two.  Commano keeps me interested in
the written word, but it's too easy to copy a poem
or find an intriguing photo, and we all know the whole
reason I have the blog is because I promised to write
every day.  So I'll copy down the daily prompts now
and get back in the saddle.  Hi Ho Silver....

at our fingertips!

Imagine spending two minutes and no money and being
able to find any (it seems to me) photo that you want
to see or send or post on your blog, or whatever. There
are many of these free photo sites, but I am so
delighted with Flickr, that I'll be loyal to that one.
Welcome to Flickr!
A few of my photos are in my account there (I email
them in) and then when I need the Trevi Fountain I
just do a search and about 100 photos are waiting
for me to click and enjoy.  The only minor complaint
I have is that some folks like to empty their cameras
and there might be 10 shots of the same building
from the almost-same location.  But I have learned
to quickly scan through those boring photos.

Trevi Fountain - Fontana de Trevi

Trevi Fountain - Fontana de Trevi
Originally uploaded by Vir2005.

I love travel emails
and this year Jen
has been writing from
Italy, the Great Plotnik
from South Africa (and
me from Kansas.) There
is something so personal
and immediate about
the beautiful "I'm
sitting in an internet
cafe in Orvieto" emails
and I'm posting this
photo for Jen, who
recently tossed three
coins in here - just
like she's supposed to.
Keep writing, Jen!
Welcome home G. Plot!

Moonrise Mosaic

Moonrise Mosaic
Originally uploaded by 2005tigarn.

I am currently enamored of the
moon and found this on Flickr.
I wish I knew where it was
taken. Soon this very blog
will have a moon chart thingie
and it will change as...oh,
never mind, we'll see it soon
enough. But it's quite special.

how to enjoy a poem

Japan


Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It’s the one about the one-ton
temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it into the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its peppery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing for you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.


Billy Collins

museum lite

One of my favorite activities during the work day is
to visit the SF Museum of Modern Art - on 3rd Street,
about 10 minutes away from my work place.  It's
easy with a membership because I don't have to wait
in line and I don't feel guilty if I only spend 1/2 hour
(or even less) at each exhibit.

Yesterday I went specifically to see the photographs from
the Paul Sack collection. These are arranged (as best I
could tell) by dates and places/people, but I will be
going back before the exhibit ends in early September.
At that time I hope to give you a little more information.
Paul Sack, by the way, is one of the city's "good" developers.

There are more than 250 photographs - the earliest from
the 1850's and they include all the best: Steiglitz, Diane
Arbus, Weston, Walker Evans, etc.  There is a spectacular
1878 panorama of SF (by Muybridge) that covers an entire
wall, but there were too many people in front of it, so I'll
return when the museum is less crowded.

I checked out the Tuttle exhibit, but I don't get too
excited about pieces of colored card paper attached to the
walls, so I hurrrumphed and left.  Oh, don't miss the wall of
individual wires that were neither pretty nor interesting.

all's well today!

Msbook was mended for a mere $78 and I'm feeling
secure and complete now. I had to use my old msMac
and she is slow and tired, plus I don't have blogs and
important information at my fingertips when I compute
with her.  (Work horse that she was for many years.)

Tonight is Tiapos, my writing group, and I always look
forward to that.  I dug out two old daily writes to take
with me - both are vaguely amusing because I've been
writing too much heavy stuff for the past few months
and I'm tired of that right now. 

The first piece is about selling cats to unsuspecting
people and including many rolls of paper towels for
the little cat messes, also a 4 ft. high mousy bank so
the owner can start saving for future vet bills.
The second one is entitled The Last Time I Told a
Lie and, surprisingly, it is about one of the times I
lied to a customer.  I had forgotten about that
incident, so this is yet another good reason to keep
a written record.

on the DL

Poor msBook is at hospital and we don't know
when she will return. Maybe a day or two. I took
her to the highly recommended Total Mac on
Geary Street (originally recommended by the
Salon Mistress) and I trust them and their
work - reasonable, too. My first quote (from
another repair shop) was $500, but Total Mac
will patch her up for under $100. So I'm on the
slowest iMac ever created and asking Michael to
put this on my blog today. Back soon!

su doku

On the cutting edge, pushing the envelope...
that's me through and through. Well, it's
most certainly not, but there is a peculiar
new number-placing puzzle that recently
appeared in the Chronny, right below our
friend Bizarro.  Then today our corporate
office wrote about some new Su Doku books
that will be arriving, and a few of us at work
have been playing around with this intriguing
puzzle that is a BIG DEAL in Japan and NY.
Yes, it is addictive...

kansas sunset

kansas sunset
Originally uploaded by the omster.

This was last night
right after our salads
and before the gigantic
bowls of ice cream.
I'm happy to be home,
but I'm missing my
friend - I had a most
wonderful time!

topeka

topeka
Originally uploaded by the omster.

This is a store in a
depressing (yet busy)
mall in Topeka.
I don't know what
else to say about
this whole public
Christianity thing,
except I think it's
dangerous.

the little apple

the little apple
Originally uploaded by the omster.

cristo in kansas?
We saw this on our
Saturday morning
walk in Ginger's
neighborhood in
Manhattan, KS.

errata

That town with Best Buy yesterday was Topeka,
not Wichita.  Sheeeesh, how could I make that
error?  Up early and getting ready for the drive
to Kansas City this morning for Midwest Airlines.
Looks like hot weather in SF, too. Hooray!

cameras & penguins

Record heat all day today, but that didn't stop
us from a 6am walk and then a busy day going
to Best Buy in Wichita for Ginger's camera.
That place is mostly shopping malls, it seems,
so it didn't appeal to me one bit.  However,
the camera was purchased and we'll work on
it tonight.  A knowledgeable sales person helped.

Next we drove to Lawrence which is a totally
delightful little college town with a long street
(Massachusetts) with tons of cute shops
and colorful flowers and shade trees. We had
lunch there, then went to see The March of
the Penguins movie which we both loved.

Going home tomorrow and I'll miss the peace
and quiet here, but mostly I'll be sad to say
goodbye to my dear/dear friend.  Now let's
see if I can get a Kansas sunset photo to
end these little trip notes.

serene spot

backyard
Originally uploaded by the omster.

apple tree
pear tree
buddha statue
wind chimes
bird feeders
bright red cardinals
many other birds
fireflies
locusts
peace
lattes
ice cream
tears
laughter
friendship

full color kansas

I'm sitting in G's backyard this morning wondering
how all those people in TV commercials work on
their laptops outdoors, because it is very hard to
see the screen.  But too soon it will be too hot out
here and I need to be outside in this lovely, quiet
place. It's about 9am now and heating up quickly.

"The fascism of beige", G said to me yesterday as
we drove around this area. In SF the homes (and
businesses) are all painted in every color possible
and I had forgotten this beige and brick world. I
think of BeigeLand more in the terms of SoCal
(Azusa, La Burba, Glendale, etc.) and now I am
guessing that most of America is safely beige.

"If you let them, they'll embroider the whole world
the color of goose shit" - Jacques Brel...misquoted,
probably. But germane.

Despite the lackluster surroundings, we had a most
delightful day yesterday - mostly talking and then
some more talking.  On our 2nd trip to the small
off-white airport, my luggage had arrived! The poor
clerk was so excited and relieved that he didn't have
to face my wrath, that Ginger and I burst into yet
more laughter. He jumped out from behind the desk,
ignoring other customers, to bring me the black
suitcase with the little red bow.  Just shows what a
few un-Kansaslike words can do from time to time.

"It's a sign of respect", G translated to me after the
43rd person said, "yes, Ma'm" to one of us.  We, of
course, know where they can tuck that respect.

In the afternoon Ginger took me out to see Tuttle
Creek Dam (and lake) and it is a beautiful spot.
Almost deserted, but on weekends they have concerts
and picnics and I could easily picture that. It is lush
and green here, one forgets.

So after a delightful full night of sleep I am having
some coffee and taking the cowboy walk again.
G was off to work early, but she'll be home around
noon for lunch - we don't want to miss any calories
on this trip.  So far, so good.

I am extremely content - a fortunate woman am I.

sunrise in kansas

sunrise in kansas
Originally uploaded by the omster.

It was already getting hot
at 6am this morning.

from the heartland

My goal today is to get a close-up photo of a bright red cardinal (bird,
not baseball) and see how many lattes I can drink before noon.
Ginger and I stayed up late talking and were up early for a
walk before it gets too warm.  I'm sitting on her back deck
now, looking out over her huge back yard and listening to the
birds chirp-chirp.  It seems so much closer to nature here
than it does in SF.  Probably because it is.

"Luggage is for amateurs" my friend Michael in Goleta tells me, so
I'm not worried that my suitcase didn't arrive in that way
too small 19 seat noisy little plane from KC to Manhattan
last night. The airport in KC was dead, but Ginger assures
me that no one in their right mind comes to KC in July. Oh.

One of the best things about being stuck on an airplane is
having time to read articles that I won't read otherwise:
elephants in Africa with stumpy trunks, Gertrude Stein's
affair with May Somethingorother (infuriating Alice B. so
much that she made Gertrude cross out any "may" word
in her writing, forcing her to use "could" instead) and
then losing myself in the Phillipa Gregory Other Boleyn Girl
book which is a little hard to believe, but it IS fiction and
I do tend to judge too harshly sometimes.

I think today we'll get Ginger a digital camera and set that
up.  Then we'll talk some more about everything under the
hot midwestern summer sun and maybe head for a large
bookstore so I can cast my critical eye once again.

plugs & gadgets

I've been packing for my trip to Manhattan, Kansas
off and on today and thinking a bit of how the world
has changed so much in just the past ten years.
For instance, now I can't travel without my trusty
laptop (msBook) or my camera and all the many
accessories that go with them. The camera gobbles
batteries, so I need to include extras and a battery
charger, too. Of course the cell phone needs its
recharger and all these quasi-tech items take up
blocks of space.  I barely have room for the pound
of Peet's coffee and seldom-worn sleeveless tee
shirts and shorts. It's going to be so sweet to be in
real summer weather - hot nights, fireflies, locusts
humming as soon as the sun goes down, and no
fog as thick as cookie dough the way it is here today.

jodie foster!

Imagine my surprise to see her in the delightful French
film A Very Long Engagement which we watched
tonight. I enjoyed the movie because it was filled
with mystery and sorrow and the strange quiet
beauty of the French countryside. Alas, the World
War I war scenes were almost as horrific as real
war, or so I imagine. Four plus stars.

mary oliver

City Arts & Lectures is bringing Ms. Oliver here in
November and I hope to get tickets.  Here is one
of her poems that makes me feel like I know her
just a bit.

               Answers

If I envy anyone it must be
My grandmother in a long ago
Green summer, who hurried
Between kitchen and orchard on small
Uneducated feet, and took easily
All shining fruits into her eager hands.

That summer I hurried too, wakened
To books and music and circling philosophies.
I sat in the kitchen sorting through volumes of answers
That could not solve the mystery of the trees.

My grandmother stood among her kettles and ladles.
Smiling, in faulty grammar,
She praised my fortune and urged my lofty career.
So to please her I studied - but I will remember always
How she poured confusion out, how she cooled and labeled
All the wild sauces of the brimming year.

jacarandas

jacarandas
Originally uploaded by the omster.

(My friend Kristin calls me The Omster
because I go to yoga.) But back to
these wonderful trees and the fact
that I can actually post this photo
myself. What a major sense of pride
and accomplishment I have today!
The trees are on 25th Street near
Harrison in the Mission District
of San Francisco.

the mac addict

Bruce Almighty showed me this article in the August issue of
MacAddict about blogging and isn't this something:
Some estimates claim that there are 60 million blogs on the
Web these days....(blah blog stuff) and about half a million
new blog posts appear daily.
I was particularly interested in a little graph on Photo Hosting
because I am frustrated that I can't send a picture every
now and then from iPhoto.  For instance, did you not want
to see the jacaranda trees on 26th Street?  They only grow
in the Mission district of San Francisco, not out in those
cold avenues or downtown. But I can't send it, so there.
Anyway, the author recommends Flickr (www.flickr.com)
so I'll check that out sometime after my trip to Kansas
next week when I'll be rejuvenated and can face technical stuff.

celebrate bastille day!

I happen to love the French citizens, however I
thought you might enjoy this quote from the
American writer, P.J. ORourke:
The French are sawed-off sissies who eat snails
and slugs and cheese that smells like people's
feet. Utter cowards who force their own children
to drink wine, they gibber like baboons even when
you try to speak to them in their own
wimpy language.
I will add that they still smoke which is totally
obnoxious and rude. In my humble opinion...

the birds of SoCal

I'm proud to announce that my friend Joan has a
brand new book coming out.  She has put a lot of
work into this and deserves all the glowing praise.
Joan is a dear newly rediscovered friend - we went
to the University of Colorado together and then
lost track of each other for a few decades.  I'm
thrilled to have her back in my life.  Check out
the book and congratulations to her.
Introduction to Birds of the Southern California Coast

getting impersonal

I've been thinking about this passage from A Long Way
Down by Nick Hornby.  First, and least important, it
appears that young Brits say "Der" instead of "Duh".

Anyone who knows me understands that small town
living doesn't appeal to me ("you'd be lynched", my
husband tells me). Bucolic is out. I don't want anyone
knowing what I do or say, even if I don't do or say one
thing particularly interesting.  I love the anonymity of a
big city, the big bookstore, a busy Starbucks, etc.
I never, however, considered this to have to do with
confidence.  So this drew my attention...
From the musings of Jess, a teenage girl in London:
I like to know that there are big places without windows
where no one gives a shit. You need confidence to go
into small places with regular customers - small book-
shops and small music shops and small restaurants
and cafes.  I'm happiest in the Virgin Megastore and
Borders and Starbucks and PizzaExpress, where no one
gives a shit, and no one knows who you are. My mum and
dad are always going on about how soulless those places
are, and I'm like, Der.  That's the point.

flixlist®

Actually, creating a book list is right up my alley because,
if nothing else, I am a list maker.  For some reason,
after we started with Netflix back in 04/04, I have
kept track of every movie we have rented.  I could count
them now, but that would not interest all my readers,
would it?  Suffice it to say that the first movie was
Under the Sand and the most recent Intimate Strangers.

We are the reason the movie theaters suffer.  We used
to spend about $40 a week on one movie, two popcorns,
coke. Now it's $20 a month for the Flix and we average
about 8 to 10 movies a month.  (My husband and I could
never successfully share a box of popcorn, so that means
we paid more than normal couples.)  I think Netflix is
a brilliant concept and I made some $$$$ once saying
nothing much at a focus group they had at their corporate
headquarters down in Los Gatos.  So I'm extra loyal.

and he writes every day

OK, I've started a folder here on my desk top and I will
be listing my all-time favorite books.  What a challenging
project, thanks Salon Mistress! Give me a few weeks, here.

Now I want to talk about Stephen King because he is such
an accomplished writer.  I don't particularly like his horror
stories, but once in a while the New Yorker will publish one
of his short stories - and it will be outstanding.  And I
truly appreciated The Shawshank Redemption and   
The Green Mile.                              

His book On Writing is, of course, nonfiction and he is
painfully honest about his addiction to drugs and alcohol,
but he also has some terrific writing tips.  For instance
King talks about how important it is to have a special
place, even if its very small, just for writing. He covers
the basics too: verbs, nouns, dialogue, plot, narration,
description, etc.  And he emphasizes that all writers
need to read and then read some more.  Well, that
part I got right.

Then, at the end of On Writing, Stephen King lists his
favorite books.  A few too many in the horror genre,
but I've read and loved these that aren't:
.Smilla's Sense of Snow
.The Poisonwood Bible
.Enduring Love
.Into Thin Air
.To Kill a Mockingbird
.The Secret History
But now I need to work a bit on My List.

appreciation day

Today all of us workers get 40% off, so I bought five books
and a cassette of 1776, unabridged, of course. The one
poetry book is Adrienne Rich's An Atlas of the Difficult
World  because it has that poem that everyone loves
("the bookstore poem") which begins "I know you are
reading this poem..." I need to devour more of her work.
The other books:
.Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
.The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
  (The Salon Mistress recommended this)
.The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory
  (because our women customers sing her praises)
.The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan
  (who can write no wrong - also this book is on
   Stephen King's "list of 100 best" which I hope  
   to conquer within the next 5 years)
I'm sort of like a kitten with a new sockful of
catnip tonight and ready for a boring plane trip.

3 o'clock curtain

I love intense theatre in a small setting, so going to
see ART this afternoon was a delight.  I also prefer
one act plays with lots of conversation - half price
tickets, too.  I highly recommend this 85 minute play.
The San Francisco Playhouse is about 1/2 block from
work, upstairs at 536 Sutter.  As you've probably
read, the story is about a piece of "modern" art, but
it is really about friendship and change.  One quote
I remember, "no true friendship ever begins because
of rational thought", or like that. Meaning, I think, that
friendship is based more on emotion and feeling than
rationality. The actors, as it turns out, are all regular
customers in our store - that made ART even better.
It runs through July 30th. sfplayhouse.org

lunch with willie

I had to walk back and forth to Kinko's twice today
because they keep screwing up our projects, but I
was cheered on the final walk to see our ex-mayor
Willie Brown and his friends Harry deWildt and
Wilkes Bashford having their traditional Friday
lunch at Le Central on Sutter.  I've always liked
Willie, but I have had to defend him often. He is
so very San Francisco, even if he's from Texas.

back to CNN

I hate these times when we have to turn on CNN. They
do the best job with the writing, reporting and photography.
We've been to most of those places in London and Bill's
counsin lives in Edgeware so we're waiting for an email
from him.  The look of shock on the faces of the Brits is
too much. When I got up this morning I thought, "today
is 07/07 - a lucky day".  Wrong again.

slightly sinful

One of the best things about foggy summer days is being
able to watch movies in the afternoon without feeling
too guilty.  Today, however, there was some sunshine,
but we watched movies anyway.  First Rescue Me that
Bill taped last night and next Enduring Love based on the
book by McEwen.  That book has the best opening scene
I've ever read (that I can remember) and the movie
captures it pretty well. Samantha Morton was excellent
in the lead.  Now I have True Romance that Dr J loaned
me about a month ago. Tarantino directs, so it
should be a good one.

thoughts on friendship

I was going to write a little bit about how very lucky
I have been in my life because I have such truly fine
friends.  Then I thought, sheeeeesh, I've also been
lucky with love.  Final thought: is there a connection?
Right now I'm not going to discuss the first phase
passion-glorious stage of love (which has been written
about by people far more talented than I), but about
the everyday "I'm glad to see you - let me tell you
about the neighbor with the blue SUV" give-and-take
how-was-your-day kind of love. I'm wondering
if that's why some relationships just don't seem to
work - the friendship factor somehow goes awry and
bickering enters to fill the void and becomes a habit.

All leading up to my thoughts on going to Kansas in
two weeks to see my oldest friend, Ginger.  We have
been friends for more than 30 years and that makes
both of us extremely proud.  If you're like me, you've
lost a few friends along the way, and even though they
may appear in our thoughts and dreams, the closeness
is definitely gone forever. 

I don't think there is one thing that Ginger doesn't know
about me. We have been through the muck and mud
together and we have laughed and cried too many times
to count.  How many miles have we walked? She has
taught me more than my mother ever did and through
her I have actually begun to realize my full potential.

So those are my disjointed thoughts on friendship and
love for now.  I'm guessing that people who make good
friends would make for good partners too - but of
course there are always exceptions, aren't there?

a patriotic act

For the 4th of July, I am going to offer you this blog site
that is doing the job that newspapers are supposed to
be doing, and aren't.  It was created by Mr. and Ms. Fesmire
of Sunnyvale, Calif.  who are outraged by the war in Iraq. 
Oh, sorry, make that the invasion of Iraq. Their goal is
to "awaken the mainstream media" to the series of eight
leaked Blair administration memos that were almost
ignored.  The blog has had more than 700,000 hits
since it started on May 13 of this year.
The Downing Street Memos :: The Blog

truth in poetry

THE JOURNEY

by Mary Oliver


One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life that you could save.

agnostic prayers

We are all worried about whether the BART employees will
strike next week.  It is a less than perfect system, but those
of us who take those trains have little patience with smelly
and crowded Muni buses.  We will know on Wednesday if
the strike is on of off.  Settle, folks.

gloria & self esteem

Self-esteem isn't everything; it's just that there's
nothing without it.
Gloria Steinhem

I was and still am a huge fan of Gloria Steinhem.  The
last time I saw her was on Actor's Studio when Jayne
Fonda was the guest star - several months ago when
Jayne's autobiography was published. Even though
Gloria was bold and strident during the hey dey of the
women's movement, she was able to deflect anger
because of her warmth, beauty and very sharp sense
of humor.  We wouldn't have come so far without her.

I am proud to be a feminist and I call myself a woman
with pride.  I do not want to be a girl or a lady.  For some
reason many women don't like to be called women, I guess
it's some sort of fear of aging thing.  Men don't mind being
called men.  But here's another quote, this one by Rebecca
West, an English novelist:
I myself have never been able to find our precisely what
feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist
whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from
a doormat.

a long way down

Today I'm going to bring home Nick Hornby's new novel
and here is an extremely interesting interview with him:
Powells Books - Nick Hornby

the missing link

Here we are - my friend Jane. The blog is under
remodel currently, so pardon our dust.
Writing Salon Mistress Muses

3 excellent years

I didn't start writing until 3 years ago when I joined Jane's most
wonderful class at the Writing Salon in Bernal Heights.  I selected
the Personal Essay class because it worked with my schedule,
even though I knew that I had absolutely nothing to say.  Since
that magical night I have produced three full notebooks because I
have written almost every day.  I followed the first class with a
few more classes and then participated in 4 (count them - four) of the  
Round Robins wherein we are assigned prompts and partners and
write every day for five or so weeks.  Wowza.

My work is on my computer and also in the notebooks and I really
need to do some organizing and make some decisions about what
to do with all this material.  When one writes this much, certain
themes emerge and I will write about these at a later date.  Suffice
it to say that when Jane complimented me I would glow for days
and email her comments to my friends who would respond with,
"way to go, Girl", because I have been blessed with supportive
friends who would like me to quit my day job and write all day long.

But tonight, I just want to celebrate the Writing Salon and urge
anyone who wants to join a community of warm and loving people
and stretch some of your muscles, take some chances, have some
laughs and tears, to click on Salon Mistress Muses (and God knows
where those links are floating around now) and change your life
for the better - as I did.  Thank you, Jane.

always bizarro

Yesterday the cartoonist Dan Piraro was on KGO and I enjoyed
hearing the interview, although he sounds more "normal" than I
expected. I've been reading his cartoon in the Chronicle for
more over 20 years and I still enjoy him, even though it has
shrunk so much that anyone over 50 needs a magnifying glass
to catch the important details. He talked about how impossible
it is for a cartoonist to make a living doing this, unless one
makes it BIG like with Doonesbury or The Far Side.  The money is
in the stuffed animals and tee shirts, according to Piraro.  In
any event, here is his web site, which is intriguing: Bizarro
Piraro said it only takes a few minutes to draw the cartoon, but
coming up with the idea will often take up to 5 days. He is in
town for a one man show taking place in Millbrae or Mill Valley,
or one of those towns across the bridge.

secret lives

We rented In the Realms of the Unreal: the Mystery of Henry Darger
from Netflix and watched it Sunday night.  Since then I have been
thinking about all the people who might possibly have secret lives;
probably not to the extent of this janitor by day - illustrator and
writer by night.  Henry did more than practice his craft, that is all
he did, other than work.  This was back in the 50's and he didn't
have TV, computer, friends, travel, restaurants, etc.  He wrote
his fantasy story and drew miles of amazing pictures.  How sad
that his work wasn't discovered until he was on his deathbed.
Also, the movie was interesting from an historical point of view
with some tantalizing scenes of the city of Chicago.
This is a fabulous documentary - rent it!

huge discovery!

On Saturday, Bruce Almighty told me that we could email
to these blogs and after I said, "no way", he responded
that "I read it in the book you recommended".  Hmmm,
did he mean the same book I have here at home stacked
on top of all those other computer books?

Well, sure enough! This means that I can add italics,
underlines , some color and even use big mother
words...so no more messing around with that
HTML stuff that I never really understood.  Plus, it seems
so much more personal and easy to type in an email here.
Way to go - thanks.  OK, now I can even add a link because
you should be reading about my friend's trip to Cape Town
The Great Plotnik  Enjoy!

scroll & noodle

My friend Michael posted some photos of the
David Best pagoda here in commano, but you
need to scroll around a bit to find them.
And, like magic, you can click on the one
with the altar and it enlarges. Gol' darn,
just like a real blog!

team Newsom

I didn't vote for Gavin because he wasn't liberal
enough, so imagine my delight and surprise when
he supported gay marriages more than a year ago.
Makes me pretty up and walkin' proud.

Speaking of walking and pride, I meandered down
Powell Street today to see the Gay Parade, enjoying
the costumes and happy people along the way. About
a block from Market, the buzz got to me. Laughter
and applause and joy. Every year on my lunch hour I
have this overwhelming desire to be at the parade
and this year I felt the goose bumps earlier than
usual. The crowds were huge and I didn't have time
to find a really good spot for viewing, but I did catch
the gay and lesbian police officers and next came
a whole bunch of people wearing pink tee shirts that
read "Team Newsom". Most of them were walking, but
some drove in those little electric cars that we are
seeing more and more of. (I know my friend in Santa
Barbara who drives the Great White will cringe when
she reads this, but she does have those two dogs as
an excuse.) I imagine Mayor Newsom was walking with
the people in pink, but I couldn't see him from behind
all those people.

It was one of our foggy days today, but not cold and
windy. There was electricity everywhere. I'm not
gay, but I am so proud to live in this city.

a daily lesson

Our email program at work is a half-assed Outlook
budget job that gets clogged from what it considers
too many emails and attachments. Often I will have
to wade through 50 to 100 important messages before
I start my work day. (Of course if I have any
personal emails, those are read first.) Every day
there will be 4 to 10 duplicate back/forth messages
about high-level executive items: escalators, urinals,
discipline problems, trash cans, dumpsters, the
always faulty AC system, snarly customers, scam
artists and outright thieves.

Sometimes my temper will flare and I'll shoot back
an email, only to get a "so sorry, you need to delete
some of your mail first" message, so I save the letter
until later. After I read and cleanse the program,
I go back to read the emails that I'd planned to send
and almost every time I change my mind and delete or
rewrite what I had originally written in the heat of
the moment. It seems I shoot from the hip more often
than I think I do and the much-criticized Outlook is
looking out for me.

ah yes, the overlap

Sleep
I am fighting fiercely
for it by lying down,
but the Walden of my mind
fills up with berry pickers,
litterbugs, picnickers
and outsize children,
all the crying kind.

Actually, overlap
is my worst problem.

When the lines that I dangle
in Walden
are hauled in,
the tail of one thought
is found to be hooked
in the mouth of another
and that one
is equally firmly caught
by another of which I am not
especially fond,
and the endless flapping
of fishes ends by
swamping the pond.

But I digress,
making images of sleeplessness.

Somewhere is Innisfree,
is Zion,
somewhere a womb
opens inward,
a kind of whale whose stomach room
is warmly moist
and undangerously brown.
I am fighting fiercely
for it by lying down.

Maxine Kumin

it's all so temporary

Yesterday we took a fine walk up and down
Hayes Street with the express purpose of
seeing this pagoda created by David Best
of Burning Man fame. There's a tiny park
there at Hayes and Octavia and the pagoda
is fenced inside. Someone had thoughtfully
left an opening in the fence, so I was able
to take some close up shots of this glorious
work of art. Very intricate, very lovely.
(photo or photos to follow...)

it must be love

One of the recurring themes in the writing I've
been doing the for past 3 years is how fortunate
I am to live in San Francisco. IN the city,
not on the outskirts - not some place where there
is easy parking, but right here in the heart
of things. And now, after many years of working
in Berkeley, San Mateo, Colma, Milpitas, Daly
City, Sunnyvale, etc., finally, I work
in the heart of San Francisco at Post and Powell.

As with any irrational love affair, I don't see
clearly about my city. During the height of the
homeless problem I was able to put my blinders
on and walk right over the many sad mounds of
poor people passed out on the streets and in
the doorways. We plan an extra half hour to find
a parking spot when we go out and think nothing
of it. We pray to our Lady of the Asphalt and
rejoice when she comes through for us once again.
I won't even discuss real estate stuff, that's
too obivious to everyone. "Pish tosh" I say with
a dismissive wave of my hand...

Last night at dinner, for instance, our friend
Frank was describing a scene from out at the
Legion of Honor when they watched the fog and
some clouds roll in through/under the Golden Gate
Bridge and then disappear. I could picture it too
and once again I thought, "there, see? right here
is where I belong"...and I do.

I feel for the Great Plotnik and his Ducknik
leaving here during the best weather of the year.
When I got up this morning I was humming, "who
will buy this beautiful morning?" The sky is
clear, the light is incredible and the air feels
soothing on my skin. I've already been out to our
(thankfully) small garden to pat the roses on
their heads and to gently pull a few minor weeds.

When I bought my belated digital camera this year
the first photos I shot were of the skyline from
our back room. It's not as though I don't have
a few thousand others, but, sheeeesh, it was just
too splendid that particular day.

the bag in the hall

(Or sack if you're from a red state)

I'm getting ready for a July trip to visit my oldest friend
Ginger who lives in Manhattan, Kansas. Part of the Mullen Ave.
travel ritual is to put a brown paper bag (or two) in the hallway
and we drop things in: notes, magazines, books, gifts, clothes,the
tickets and other assorted odd little items that should not be left
behind. I always write the destination in big, black letters - as
though we might forget where we are heading.

This time it's a Mollie Stone bag, but in the past it has been
from Trader Joe's. I hope this isn't a bad luck thing. The
bag legally shouldn't be installed until a month before the trip,
but I cheated by about a week this time, because today is the
longest day of the year.

They call it "The Little Apple" and it's several hours away from
Kansas City. A nasty drive on one lane roads and scary to do at
night after a long day in a cramped airplane. So this year I'm
going to fly from KC to Manhattan, not a very appealing idea either.

So far the only things in the hallway bag are the e-tickets and a
pair of shorts that I hate. They are probably 20 years old, why
don't I toss them? I will also drop in the little red shoe pin that
Ginger gave me when she first moved to Kansas a few years ago.

I love getting ready for a trip and the anticipation is so much
a part of the fun. I wonder if we'll go the 4H fair again this
year. I never knew pigs were such a bright pink...

good intentions

Officially, today, my Round Robin writing course
is over and for the first time I have not
signed up for the next one. I have decided for
now to use my commano blog to do my daily
writing. I can't be quite as personal as I
have been due to the wide readership here - I'm
sorry to disappoint you all, but I have my
reputation to protect.

I don't feel as free blog-typing yet as I
do in emails to close friends - I know that's
my best and most creative writing and the time
when I make those "oh-my-God" discoveries
that make all the work of writing so worthwhile.
I'm hoping things will change here as I keep
rambling away and getting used to the whole thing.

Monday night is my Friday night because I am
off on Tuesday and Wednesday, so it's about
the best night of the week for me. We're
having lunch tomorrow with the Great Plotnik
and his wife Ducknik before they head to South
Africa on Friday. They'll be gone for 5 weeks
and that's a very long time.

Tonight I want to suggest that you word people check
the "bla bla bla" link and read Bruce's thoughts
and words about writing. Excellent stuff there.
Also the new SF Chronicle Culture blog which will
soon be linked here (thanks, Michael).

So there, I wrote for about 10 minutes or so.
Maybe this will work if I can only loosen up and
simply write.

preacher man

Yesterday I brought home "Gilead" by Marilynne Robinson, the novel
that won the Pulitizer Prize this year, and I'm enjoying it immensely. I
hesitated before because the idea of reading about the life of a
midwestern preacher as he prepares to die didn't really sound too
enticing. But I was wrong, this is a compelling book and beautifully
written. I did enjoy "Housekeeping" by Ms. Robinson which I
believe I read that about ten years ago.

Meet Two of my Faves

Here you get to admire my dear friend Kristin's

19 month old daughter Ryan Rosemary (aka RR)

and her striper Dorffie, who won the prestigious

"shortest legs on any cat ever" award back in

the Fall of 2002...or was it 2003?

writers & friends

Some of my happiest moments during my current
life are spent with our Tiapos writing group.
Last night we all met at my house, squished
into our little back room with the impressive
view of SF. Here are some of the writing
topics - I'll go around the room mentally now:
.isolation vs. solitude
.the penis gallery
.big blog's big book of fiction
.dirt man and the haight street fair
.her teeth were sooo big she couldn't
close her mouth
.standing in line at the bakery in heaven
.starving a cat to death

My husband was good enough to hide away, but
after my friends left he said, "there sure
was a lot of laughter!" And there was, there
always is. Often tears too, but not last
night. Two of our favorites (the Great Plotnik
and LargePants) are going on extended vacations
and we will be missing them. We missed our
own poetic Lenore, too, but we'll see her for
the next meeting. Nice to have SpottyWest back
where he belongs - with us.

are those italics?

I am NOT enjoying the new Michael Cunningham book
Specimen Days, so I will take it
back to work and select another. The employee
book loan program is what I missed most when I
spent a year not working in the bookstore business. And here you
thought it was the customers...

My faithful and patient readers will note that I actually
used italics up there for the book title, but it's a
tedious process on this blog. Or is it (gulp) me? Anyway,
thanks to the Goleta Guy again for pushing me here.

but can she cook?

Last night we went to see "The Goat,
or Who is Sylvia?" presented by ACT.
This is an Edward Albee play and my
introduction to bestiality as a theme.
Surprise, it was not as disgusting as
one might imagine, and of course the
dialogue was Virginia Woolfish enough
to keep all people who like words and
word play interested. The man in front
of us left early, (it was a one act play)
but no one else rushed out. To me,
basically, it all revolved around our
overwhelming need (or perceived need)
to connect with someone or something
completely and our hero felt that he
had met that someone when Sylvia looked
at him with "those eyes". I definitely
recommend this play with the subtitle:
"Notes Toward a Definition of Tragedy".

the onion unpeeled

So good to have The Onion published here
in SF and now it's FREE every Thursday. There
was a little piece about how the basketball
playoffs were interrupted by the first
pre-season game of next year. We thought it
was true because basketball is now a year
'round sport. And not my favorite, obviously.

about denial

I like this quote from an East Indian poet
named Tagore:
"Truth comes as conqueror to him who
refuses to receive him as friend."

bubkis = nada

Famous people come into the store where I
work, but they always seem to arrive after
I've left for the day, or on my days off.
Sometimes I only know they were there when
I see the little red and white author
stickers on their books. Some examples:
.David Sedaris
.Sean Wilsey
.Sue Grafton
.Elizabeth George (I did meet her!)
.Ruth Reichl
.Whoopi Goldberg
.Willie Brown (frequent customer)
.Gavin Newsom

Before his book came out, President
Clinton visited and bought a lot of
mass market mysteries. Several people
got his autograph, but I wasn't there,
of course. Dr J keeps an autograph book
in his locker and has lots of valuable
greetings and signatures. I have bupkis.
Or is that bubkis?

we love the marsh

Yesterday we went to a 5pm (!) show at The
Marsh (22nd and Valencia) to see the most
excellent Brian Copeland in "Not a Genuine
Black Man". This is now the longest running
solo show in SF history and the funky little
theatre was standing room only. I bought
our tickets on line: Brown Paper Tickets -
The first and only fair-trade ticketing service,
or you can call the Marsh ticket hotline
at (800) 838-3006. There are also performances
at more traditional 8:30pm times, but right
now that seems very late to someone on my
strange working schedule. Many thumbs up,
even though I'm sick of that hand gesture.

defunct

This poem always reminds me of my brother
who died as he lived - stubborn. Evan was
a good-looking man with piercing blue eyes.
(I can hardly wait to see what the various
browsers do to ee's poem-design here - it's
not supposed to be flushed left as it shows
on my preview, so apologies.)

Buffalo Bill

Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeons justlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death

ee cummings

why yoga? why me?

When I was young I would have laughed in a
mildly contemptuous manner at people who
did yoga. "We mock what we are to be", I
think that Mel Brooks said that. Anyway,
now I go to the Integral Yoga Institute
once a week and would actually go more
often if I had the time. It's that lovely
Victorian building on Dolores Street and
I feel peaceful the moment I slip out of
my shoes and walk in the front door.

I've been doing this yoga thing for almost
5 years. At first I didn't like the
chanting and breathing, but now those are
as important to me as the stretching.
Yoga gets me out of my little world and
makes me feel as though I really do belong
to the whole universe. I try to use the
breathing techniques at work when things
get stressful and I even mutter the
occasional "om shanti om" during a crisis.

a rebuttal

OK, here is an email from Susie Parker and I
might have to admit that I have made a rare
mistake this time and perhaps I spoke before I
thought. I wish I could put this in italics,
or bold or something, but that just seems too
much for me and my blog.

I don't quite agree with your op down below. I won $2000 once and a month long stay at a writers retreat. so I pay entry fees and subscriptions (for poets and writers…) I'm careful about it, but by entering contests it forces me to look at my work carefully, it’s part exercise, part editing, part motivation, etc. whatever works…. onward! sp

book o' the week

I'm reading "The Wonder Spot" by Melissa Bank
(author of "The Girls' Guide to Hunting and
Fishing") and although it's a novel, it is
what the wonderful local writer Susie Parker
(aka Ms. Q) would call "thinly veiled fiction".
It takes place mostly in NYC when the young woman
heroine (Sophie) finally lands her first job as an
underpaid pink collar worker at a publishing
house. I've noticed that people who love words
and writing will suffer greatly just to be near the
things they love. But maybe that's true of others,
I'll need to think about that. Later.

Not only do writers not get paid well, there is
this odious practice of requesting a check when the
writer submits a piece of work. I say "no" to
that, no matter what it's called: entry fee,
subscription cost, dues, etc. Now I'm getting
irritated just thinking about it.

anne bancroft

She was one of those people I just sort of assumed
would live forever. Not only was she beautiful
and talented and funny, but I have always believed
that her marriage to Mel Brooks is the kind of
partnership we all dream about. Lots of laughter
and chatter because they both seemed to be such
warm and bright people. Poor Mel.

I last saw her on one of the final episodes of
"Curb Your Enthusiasm", last year I believe.
She looked older, of course, but so elegant.
I'll miss you, Ms. Bancroft.

simple blog rules

I've decided that in the 10 posts here,
I will always try to have one quote and
one poem. So those are my new blog rules
for my blog, and here is tonight's quote:

"Writers have two main problems. One is
writer's block, when the words won't
come at all, and the other is logorrhea,
when the words come so fast that they can
hardly get to the waste basket in time."

Cecilia Bartholomew (who?)

the scam what am

Ask me if I'm sick of this one. A customer
buys 4 DVDs in our "buy 3 get the 4th free"
month-long sale. They return 3 and either
keep the freebie, or ask to trade it for
another DVD...free, of course. It makes a
woman even more snide than her usual self.
Big Blogs would be proud because for some
reason she fears that I might be silenced.
Fat chance.

those daily writes

As you know, I write every day for my Round
Robin class. This week I have been particularly
stale and started to wonder if I should change
my direction and become an escalator repair
person. But tonight our prompt was to write
a story about something small. So I wrote
a fun little piece about a kitten who gets
lost in a large bookstore. Interesting how
it seemed to get me out of the doldrums. My
kitten's name is Getta, as in "can I get a
discount?" She's an orange striper like my
most wonderful, now deceased, Uncle Junior.

too much information?

You NEED a vertical transportation engineer at that place - maybe someone that works on the Eiffel Tower. The first modern type escalator was invented in what 1921 or something and they still can't get it right - just look at BART. Have you ever seen a non-functioning wood escalator? Not me. Admittedly most have disappeared now but in the mid 1960's most of the department store escalators where wooden. Maybe it's only because yellow caution tape wasn't yet invented.
(from Michael in Goleta)

free advice

Here are two important things that I would
pass on to young women:
1) everything goes out of style except
scarves - you can save/wear them for decades.
(donate or sell the other clothes, shoes,etc.)
2) keep a hard copy file of your jury duty,
you'll need to refer to dates, cases, etc. often.

finally a photo!

Scroll down (on my computer anyway) and you'll
see a photo (!) and the links have also moved
down and that's fine with me. Thanks to my
high tech Goleta guru who understands all this
stuff and helps me immensely.

My day was OK, a little exhausting because the
escalators have crashed, well half of them,
but surely I don't need to write about this
again. I'm going to follow the advice of the
Great Plotnik and have a mammoth sandwich now.

4 floors of chaos

Today was easier - the 5am didn't seem so strange
and I am amazed at how many people are on BART
at 4:45am. Mostly workers, rather than executives,
even though we live in a country without a class
system. Sarcasm becomes me.

There is great tension in the store with all the
workmen tromping up and down the escalators and
holding the one elevator for 20 minutes at a
time. We had two escalator repair men in all
day and I'm sure they'll be back tomorrow. The
customers are even more cranky than usual and
it is hard on all of us walking up and down the
dead escalators.

Then this morning the manager of the hotel next
door came to visit in a rage because they had 30
calls of complaints about our noise during the
night from their guests. Ooooops, we forgot
about them. The workmen dragged the old fixtures
out on the sidewalk and break them down before
throwing them into the dumpster. And of course
they have to yell loudly at each other - we all
know that's standard macho behavior.

The good news is that I get to leave there at
2pm and I rush home to nap and spend a few
quiet hours cursing the numb nut Giants.
And do some writing, reading and blogging,
of course. Bed on or before 9pm. Fun!

it's just an hour!

Today my work schedule changed and I am to arrive
at work at 5am, instead of 6am. This is just for
a couple of weeks until the remodel is complete.
But it makes a huge difference and I'm having
trouble adjusting to losing an extra hour of
sleep. That and dealing with a mess every day
when I arrive. But at least I get to leave at
2pm and come home for a nap.

Last night I watched "The Sea Inside" and I
recommend it strongly. I'm always surprised when
the subject of death can be so life-affirming,
as it was in this tender Spanish movie.

Our writing prompt today: It's not going to happen
(I think I can tie that into my working life)