Please Remind Me

When I have more money, time, and brain, and less cold, that I someday want to make a Crop Circles Quilt. I think it'd be wonderful.

Why is it always the future of all mankind? Can't problems be pressing and plots compelling if it only concerns a portion thereof? How about half of mankind? One third?

No Gain In Maine Makes Me Slightly Insane

Or at least mildly irritated.

I've readers from 56(!) countries (including most of Europe (but nobody from Poland, which is okay by me. Poland creeps me out)) and 49(!) states, but nobody from Maine! Do people live in Maine? Do they have electricity there? Is there no Apple store within a reasonable (say, 500 mile) distance? Yes, the farms keep folks busy, but I hear winter has a lengthy presence there. You cannot possibly tell me that everyone sits around and knits until the snow melts (we'd have some legendary Maine pattern by now, like an Aran Jumper or an Andean chullo, and so far, I think Maine is still primarily known for lighthouses and clam bakes). What can they possibly be doing while they fail to read my blog?

A Temblor A Day Keeps The Big One Away

We had an earthquake on Sunday evening (4.7 or 5.0, depending on who you believe), and have had aftershocks for the last three days. I was perched on a cliff for the initial quake, surrounded by glass during the 4.0 aftershock that came yesterday. It's always a wild ride in Southern California.

I've always rather enjoyed earthquakes, provided there's no damage and no one is injured. It's like a free roller coaster ride, only really short and with extra adrenalin.

To Live In L.A.

On my way home today, I ran into a large gathering of white-suited Star Wars Stormtroopers up the street from my house. I have no idea why they were there, though I am assuming it was some sort of opening or event at Golden Apple Comics on Melrose (research indicates that it was the DVD release party of the film Fanboys, but it was still somewhat thrilling to think that Darth Vader had invaded my neighborhood. Perhaps if he'd destroyed the place, rents would have come down in the adjacent areas, and when moving (as I am on June 1st), I wouldn't have to move quite so far (though I am not, in fact, moving so very far at all)).

And now for the name dropping (which is one of the few pleasures of living in LA).

About a week ago, I went to a banquet honoring Will Smith and sat next to Josiah Bell, within spitting distance of Quincy Jones (and it was slightly tempting to see if I could spit that far. I've always been really bad at it). It was a super fancy affair, to which I was invited, merely because I work for the folks that threw it, but it was rather interesting, and I got to meet the guy who landed the plane on the Hudson River. And the dinner was both kosher and tasty (for $750 a plate, it had better be!), so nicer for me than the Prism Awards, which I volunteered at the week before (because a friend of mine is a casting director who gets invited to these sorts of shindigs, and she sent me a plea for help on behalf of the organizers, who were short some people, and as my regular Thursday plans had fallen through, I thought "Why not?" I got to meet William Shatner (jerk), Chandra Levy (tiny), Rolanda Watts (the sweetest person I met at the whole event, except possibly Dee Williams, who is so nice she doesn't quite seem real), a random assortment of other celebrities (most of whom I didn't recognize, because I have a short attention span and no TV, except Jayne Brook, Hector Elizondo, and that chick from Castle (what is her name? She was much prettier in person, though that might have been because she wasn't wearing a suit and a scowl)), and a bunch of industry types (several of whom came in grim faced and headed straight for the bar, muttering "I hate these things!" What killjoys. It's a free dinner, guys! How bad could it be?). The Beverly Hills Hotel had a very nice dinner catered for us before the dinner for the actual invitees, but it wasn't kosher, so I just looked at it. It was very pretty, though. Why was I telling you this? It's not actually that interesting. Except that I was a talent spotter, and the behind-the-scenes people were very dismissive of the talent. I wondered whether the celebs knew what a low opinion their coworkers had of them. Though they weren't really coworkers, I suppose. Anyway, it makes me glad I'm not a movie star, though the pay scale would be nice.

What Happens When (former) English Majors Get Bored:

Converse: Poetry written by felons.

Free Verse: Unshackled poetry.

Adverse: Commercial poetry (jingles).

Universe: A one line poem.

Averse: Poetry you hate.

Blank verse: an empty page.

Perverse: Poetry of social deviants (which, according to most authorities, inevitably leads to Converse).

Diverse: Poetry written under water.

Inverse: Poetry recited backwards.

Versatile: Poetry writ in clay.

Reverse: Poetry read twice.

Traverse: Poetry written On The Road (blame Kerouac).

Versant: Poetry composed about insects. Viz:
The ant has made himself illustrious
Through constant industry industrious.
So what?
Would you be calm and placid
If you were full of formic acid?
- Ogden Nash

Versicle: Frozen poetry.

Adversary: Any poet who gets their work published before you do.

Can you think of others?



So, yes, life has been hectic and stupid and interesting and crazy and in flux and annoying and expensive and interesting. But I am starting to write (here. I've been writing elsewhere like a crazy, productive person) again. I have a relatively (started at the beginning of March) new job, a new apartment (all mine), a morphing social group, new work habits, and new luck. My job doesn't fully utilize either my time or my talents, so I have time to do things like come up with silly lists and brainstorm ideas for my novel (now two chapters shy of completion) and peel garlic (six heads yesterday, for a new batch of pickles). But it'll do for now, and life is moving forward now, not just passing me by.

The Whole Of Creation Conspired To Produce You

Make the most of it.