November 24, 2015 § Leave a comment
if there is innocence to be had at our age then we already are, beyond that to talk about it wistfully as if we aren’t is a dog(ma) and pony show is the language of privilege, (like vulnerable as if we aren’t which is why we aren’t) or as if the patina of our experience should be disavowed as if it and therefore we are no longer innocent in that bad of good or bad way, in that besmirched no longer virginal now whore way
no I’m thinking open is the least laden of the words I’d choose but there is a suppleness and fertility creativity and delight and readiness by which I mean ripe and keen and fierce and peaceful, by which I mean at peace, at play in the word—not to mention imaginative and generous—that doesn’t look anything like innocent to me
February 26, 2013 § 8 Comments
not doing it became not having done it and then
you, I start feeling like you don’t know where to start so you don’t and it accrues, like age
the morning bird is back
the cat, not just any but our sweet sweet cat is still sick /ly
and the press needs a name.
and the, not just any but my gathering thoughts on the camino need to be gathered into a finished product, one might say book but book implies a fixed sequence, and I’m not sure I care, not sure it matters. not sure the sequence is fixed…but the not doing it is accruing like, age
October 8, 2011 § 2 Comments
it started as part of a rant as a germ on my way to the shop to finish my tithe my thesis my offering to the masters of the trade, of the craft and art of printing listening to kdfc on the radio and hoyt smith was going on as he often does talking to us the listeners as if conversationally about the whackiest interview questions and one of them was do you know a good joke which was, the more I thought of it, not such a whacky interview question at all and a perfect antidote to the news full of hate&derision masquerading as the politics of next year’s presidential race
anyway by the time I got to the shop I was in full roar and before long we’d printed a wee dozen of placards asking
do you know
a good joke
which seemed a perfect riposte to the hackneyed invective, and handy so to speak which
gave way blossomed mushroomed and catapulted me into the series (24) of flashcards, a perfect antidote to the sniffy fine if beautiful and well executed if I do so say myself collection of poems (OR WAS IT TIME) I’ve just finished.
which is now bound with plastic combs and presents itself as
TIP of The Tongue
rejoinders for everyday use
in everyday use
in defense of civil discourse
judi goldberg; ed.
and on the back cover describes itself as:
an assortment of ripostes, insinuation, nudges &
gasps offering a variety of civil responses
for any intteraction
use Tip of The Tongue Rejoinders to
ToTTR ® away from silence
judi goldberg ©here.say. Sebastopol, CA
available at Iota Press for
$10.00 (my sweet husband says that’s not enough) $12.00—unless of course you were lucky enough to buy futures—as long as the short supply lasts
one should never again be a victim of esprit de l’escalier or treppenwitz, or absent a shred if not a sense of humor cause it’s gonna get worse, before it gets worse
September 15, 2011 § 2 Comments
it’s up into my 60s now I am, no kidding, a number that back in the dark ages of yoot seemed out in the nevernever land of a thousand years from then, and ofcourse for so long I saw myself as ThatCollegeKid (wow I wonder if just that dates me) and overtime realized I was old enough to be that college kid’s mother, and then ofcourse old enough to be that college kid’s grandmother but now ofcourse when someone says 62 it sounds like an old chevy and a lot older’n me, though don’tgetmewrong I justlove the potency of it
June 9, 2011 § 1 Comment
incites more like it, so the never ending question of perfection keeps offering itself on the altar of heart, first I was looking at a mock up page I was using and mygodinheaven I saw a typo, and imagining it was the real deal and I hadn’t corrected it I wondered–since I hadn’t stitched books together never mind collated them and it would be a pain but I had extra paper so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to fix it–what I might if anything do about it, and secondly pondering (and not sure I’m pleased with) the placement of one of the poems I am again wondering what I might do, and heard myself say, if it were my master’s thesis I would suck it up and do it again, but it’s not, and instead I can let the call of the art or better yet, the call of the whale (which happens to be the title) inform the positioning of the title which I think might just be another avenue, another expression another way, whew
and today is garbage day and my sweet husband has been on a throwing away things campaign, or rampage, that we’re not using or aren’t usable or useful (to include the assuaging of sentiment, by which I mean sentiment is considered a legitimate use, for the nonce anyway, like he kept a backpack we have never used because he might still use it) and I noticed the moldy squeegee in the shower, bought just after we redid the bathroom years ago which I have never used and my sweet husband never intended to and I thought I would just throw it out, well, up came roaring all the well it’s still perfectly good, if ugly, and and and and many more breathless ands and I thought ohmygod! as my sweet sister in law says in the most effective and telling tone of voice, if it’s that hard to throw the damn thing out, it’s time in fact to practice, to make it a habit, one thing in, one thing out…hell I mean so what if it was the wrong thing to throw out…
1. If it were my master’s thesis I would do it over, as in teacher can I have another piece of paper.
2. Throwing things away is a skill which like any other takes practice.