play, an important part of work or, AGO

January 6, 2012 § 3 Comments

so, what about when a project doesn’t go the way you think it ought, or is going the way you think it should but it’s not quite right, or you are not doing it as well as you hoped or what if you don’t exactly know what you had in mind how do you decide, as decide you must, to stop or keep going, how do you resolve it such that it is along the way rather than a failure, I think to simply abandon a project is even more to abandon oneself, and to be unwilling to explore or try new things because you might fail is deadening, and leads us down the gnarly path of doubt, of inactivity, (and maybe is where ago goes)

yesterday we played in the shop—

which is to say, it was hard work but not ‘a piece’ which had been on the agenda but this idea of AGO has been on my mind, and may be the final piece of the trilogy I am ‘working’ on

ago
not
so long
ago

which morphed along the way (to the shop) into knot, or the ‘not’ actually being the paper tied in a knot instead of the printed word or and hell if it were a circle which quickly became a mobius strip then I wouldn’t need to repeat also; and then there were colors to play with, also which might be worked into the second of the trilogy which is just about going into production—paper is cut, typeface almost locked in, by which I mean decided, not locked into the form, (ha, wonder if that is where that expression came from)

and so we went to it—-

some with the strip, some with the knot, tying and looping, weaving there and back with ideas, fearlessly,

which is the idea of play, yes there is no outcome only exploration
the artifact is really heartifact, and that we ended up with loops and strips and the best knot, and painted papers to show, and the most beautiful rags you ever saw, and photos to tell is to be sure part of it

but the best really was the laughter, and the problem solving, and the ensemble of it, and the things learned

* even the simplest project takes longer than you think it will
* a mobius strip has a geometry to it
* trying new things teaches you new things which incites you to try even more new things

which brings me back around to the beauty of the mobius strip, there is no end, no beginning, no ago, no failure; only along the way

so maybe it’s all just play and the work is what you get out of it

.

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esprit de l’escalier

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

a wee pile

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

addendium

ladies in waiting

May 26, 2011 § Leave a comment

lady reading a magazine

lady reading a magazine

round as round could be with a round black hat
and black knee socks tied with purple bows she sat filling her flat-
footed black patent leather shoes, that she was wearing a purple
frilly at the bosom dress with a black and purple
polka-dot coverlet goes almost
without saying

a new really old story

May 13, 2011 § Leave a comment

wrote it a thousand years ago, it’s been on my mind, well telling the stories, each of us our own, has been on my mind, and the why we do, or don’t and the who or what we are protecting or saving…my mother always said there never really is ‘the right time’ and more&more I understand what she meant…anyway it’s dawning on me there’s no ally ally in free, paths cross we meet people we never expected to again, and fact is they already know the story, don’t they…

The New Blue Truck

He came down to show them his new truck. His brand new metallic blue pickup truck. Of course in manner of toast they went for a right now ride into the night. Drinking lots of cold beer and being very careful not to spill any on his new blue Naugahyde seats.
All in their spots. She was flanked on either side.

read more

april 22

April 24, 2011 § Leave a comment

Adios

he circled the bush never saying what he meant but passion
keeps sticking in my craw, my perspective a little whacked
after a drive into the city to lunch with a friend who stopped
speaking to me for reasons I didn’t understand which in the end
was neither here nor there he had already decided to divorce me
because I didn’t need him enough or do my tumor etiquette
quite right or keep in proper touch during the last seven months
or who the hell knows, none of it really mattering except
the fizzling passion better we had come to blows
we met so long ago on the dark side of hell
better to have ended there than in
the middle of a bowl of soup

for going softly into the night

which he paraded as grace and good manners
I am loathe to forgive him, beyond that

better he goes with God

april 24

April 24, 2011 § Leave a comment

easter sunday

it’s not that I only think about him at this time of year,
he was my best friend, we did everything together and I
mean everything our whole lives, it’s just that he
would rollover in his grave—if he’d been left in the damned thing
to roll any which way he pleased—knowing the story goes
He with a capital H died for your sins, and is deified with a
capital D for god’s sake and the bludgeon His Truth—as if
he believed in such a thing—has become, weeding out
those who knew with a small k him with a small h and
spread the word with a small w, we were the word
was the point and he would have died on a cross
for what he believed, with passion;

it is deciphered among us, here, now,
in the flesh our flesh and blood, so

really what I want to say is get real, you die with your own
sins, resurrect your own damn self

theirs

April 8, 2011 § Leave a comment

uterus
sexual innocent ignorant freedom autonomy fertile choices autonomy womb woman choices decisions choices autonomy freedom as if yours
as if in common

u ter us, a part of our bodies in the public domain, as if in common, as if shared, as if once operational it belongs to not just you, to one person, to one woman but to the community, not just to you, but to a people, as if our own uterus ties each one of us, ties you and me to them, to a nation, to The People, and they, even the grandmothers, think we enter into partnership and a claim is staked with your body, with our bodies, as if a marker, as if booty, as if redeemable to the highest bidder,
and you are no longer unto yourself
never have been, never will be,
you thought you would be, at some point old enough to choose, to act, to enjoy, to be a woman to be free to choose to act to enjoy to be woman but there is no such thing
as autonomy
first a girl, their girl, and then a woman, somebody’s woman, obligated as if without choice, held hostage to a point of view, that to be woman is to use your uterus to their advantage, and the choice is theirs, make no mistake it is never just yours

from Theirs, His & Mine 1997

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