pussies and pollys ho!

January 1, 2017 § 4 Comments

The year ends and begins I want to say in the same (and already not exactly the same place). And or with the faces of Janus and with a sense of dread if I’m honest as if already I’ve given it all over to the forces at play. As if the forces of recalibration, the equal and opposite aren’t built in. As if I’ve forgotten the push and pull of breathing. And underway now, the dread eases, on the way facing forward a wind at my back.
Buoyed in part by finishing in good measure what I’d started:
5 books in a series begun two years ago, exploring the vagaries, the moods and nuances of SELF: Who am I. What do I want. How do I know.
(Footing; self; name; place; hole in the grid).
And the projects along the way which include a few indices and lexicons yet to be pulled together
(RUST; index;)
And in part by a sense of next year’s work, the personal and public aspects, personal and public responsibilities, overlapping. The keen understanding of the need to protect our language, our vocabulary, our how do we know from the insidious force of not knowing rather than the ebb and flow, equal and opposite forces of unknowing already built in to how we come to know.

So under the rubric of syntactical drift, and the play of snigow (otherwise intended to have been mobius (<–you see the upside down and backwards of it, yes?) and working with lists of words already in play and words not yet brought into play I will go forward in mirth and good cheer, with hope, and my pollyanna in pigtails and ribbons on the one hand &, nasty pussy full of hiss and vinegar claws at the ready on the other.

Yes and all that said, in truth, I go forward with hope and equanimity in equal measure to my horror and fear.
And by all I hold sacred as I’ve said at least once before, if I’m going down I’m going down standing up, by Art! And yakking my head off.
On the mark. At the line. Pussy and Polly,  Pussies and Pollys ho!

The word that means what it is

November 18, 2016 § 4 Comments

image

a word that means what it is;
an intrinsic upside down and backwards of a thing, person, or nation;
the inside out of a thing, person, or nation
the doing of something absolutely upside down, backwards and/or inside out;

an utter, or intrinsic undoing of a person, thing, or nation;

a fundamental error of typesetting

snigowed: bamboozled, of course the i is upside down;

to be snigowed: you know who, as you know what.

n.b. if it doesn’t make sense just yet, just wait, it surely will soon.

coming soon: snigowed; the movie.

With apologies to r.d. laing

November 11, 2016 § 7 Comments

image

Day 2

Day two of president elect Donald Trump. And playing out on a national level is the confusion of feelings and facts, by which I mean understanding reality based on ones feelings, and justifying ones actions based on feelings. Well, I mean the whole election was an example of that, but as my good friend Doug pointed out for at least the 150 times in the last year or so, we are a republic, not a democracy, and it’s not simply about majority rules. It’s about disagreement, and the push and pull and tug and scratch of the factions. And of course there was going to be push back against the what the fuck of all the changes that have seemingly been rammed down the throats of white men and women it can’t help but be said, who weren’t, aren’t ready. But, it is just another cycle and another beginning, and change does not come at the click of the mouse, nor in a nanosecond, and is not done by others, so there is a steep learning curve.

Wow how did I get to be on the elder side of this I can’t help but marvel.

This whole cycle was also full of no one knowing what they were talking about. The irony of course is that Donald Trump was the perfect exemplar of that, and so of course he won. But the extent to which now in post mortem people continue to come up with simple explanation not to mention blame to explain the right and wrong of it is as mind blowing as the whole experience has been. And it is annoying.

So I get back to feeling sad feels sad, or mad or glad and let’s just rest there until one can or is willing to marshall his her or eir feelings to get about life the business at hand, which is living in accordance with ones own values, oh yes, here we are back to how do you know who you are what (do) you want?

The motes in our eye are blinding.
But and feeling sad feels sad. Or scared or angry.
The blame game is lame.

It just is the beginning of another circular go nowhere argument and there are plenty of parties to engage but they are all someone’s other. Yesterday my sweet husband in his discombobulation tried out I blame this on women! I mean I got the point he was trying to make but, really?! Really he thought saying it just like that would do anything but land up his ass?!
The fix is in there is no fix except the fix we are in and pulling on the short hairs of r.d. Laing, therein is the fix. Ha!
There is a glut of everyone thinking they’re so smart or have just right thing to say this away. Mostly, if, or when, we are honest, really what everyone is doing is triangulating, checking to see the lay of their land, their tribe, their safety, their fallback position. Of course we are afraid, but we must not cower. Of course we are sad but we, by which I mean I, will not despair. All is not lost. All is not anything.

Dear m.d.
So, the extent to which any of us do not temper our smartest in the room with wisdom is the extent now to which we are no longer the smartest one in the room. Just sayin’

In fact that you look and sound exactly like the arrogant and so blinded by the mote in your own eye shortsighted blowhard know nothings you are deriding.

It’s very much more complicated to be as smart as you think you are. And you’re old enough now to start wising up. As in adding a mix of wisdom, and (not empathy or compassion, but) the tenderness and ferocity that comes from your own skin singe in the game, to the way you move around in our world.
Time to dial it back a bit or it will bite you in the ass, in the real world you, as in, we live.

Tempted of course would I be to give him backstory and context but that then would give him ground for debate and therein is the extent to which the point would have been missed. It is a rubicon moment, and I the bony finger pointy nosed cranky old woman who has only to say there’s no sorry that will get you back once you’ve crossed. There is no debate. Cross at your own peril. You’ve been warned, and you don’t get to say no one ever told you.

Not surprisingly he didn’t want to hear. Fair enough.

Place/s

November 4, 2016 § 5 Comments

Book 1. Limited, varied edition of 10, could be 13. Could be 15, though that would be some kind of magic and variation, or theme and variation.

51 poems, 5 signatures, assorted photos, etchings & rubbings, 108 pages.

4th part of a project exploring how it is we come to know and experience self. Other books in the series include footing, SELF, and name.

The final and 5th part will be a novel novel; hole in the grid.

All in a day’s work

October 31, 2016 § 4 Comments

I’m reminded often it’s not so much about perfection as it is about the music. Not so much about repeating the same thing over and over so it’s  a down pat thing but that like life it is about solving the problem at hand,  working your way out of which ever cul de sac you find yourself in, negotiating the dead end or no macaroni and cheese in the pantry when that’s what you planned on for supper. It’s always the ninth inning, and it’s always a could win, and depending on how you play it, could be fun.

Like Nick said lo those 16 years ago, “the best surfer is the one having the most fun.”

Place.

October 20, 2016 § 4 Comments

 

 

printing finished! it started about here: but for the asking

Homestretch

October 19, 2016 § 2 Comments

through windows
PLACE
and doors

Can’t say I found it in order.

6 months + today I finished typesetting the colophon and the page after the title page. Wow.  And c’est tout!!!!

Will finish the printing tomorrow.

Then comes the collating and the putting it together just so, 20 printed for a finished varied edition of 13.