So… Meghan, Ryan and I

So… Meghan, Ryan and I are going to put out a chapbook of poetry. We’re in the “brainstorming titles” stage, but almost as important we’re also in the “brainstorming supergroup names” stage. (For publicity’s sake, we have to be able to say: “yeah, I’m with this group of poets called <insert supergroup name here> and we just put out a book of our poems. Maybe you should pick up a copy.”)

Anyway, meghan forgot to mention (intentionally left out?) our possible superhero-group titles: (conceived by me and inspired when Ryan called us collectively a “supergroup”)

• The obvious one: SuperPoets
• my favorite: The Poetastic Four
• the X-Poets
• Poets-who-leap-tall-buildings
• Poet-avengers
• poet-league
• mutant-poets
• the uncanny poets
• Power-Puff Poets (I like this one too)

So… if you have any poetic chapbook title ideas, post them over at meghan’s blog… but if you have any supergroup name concepts, post them here!

Mopsa has already suggested CHAPsmear as a chapbook title. This is, of course, a pun, AND inordinately disgusting, therefore it would normally go at the top of my list, but since I don’t think I want the word “chap” in the title no matter what the circumstances, all of her suggestions are probably right out the window.

(Incidentally, Kohout apparently thought we were making a “chatbox”, and suggested all kinds of titles in that vein. Has anyone ever read the book Chat? It’s about two people who meet and date online… it was perhaps the first of it’s kind ever in print.)

I feel obligated to say

I feel obligated to say I wish we knew exactly what happened last year on this date. The events are fairly clear, but who knew what is still, apparently, a mystery (or at the very least, a non-issue).

Has pouring more money into our defense budget done us any good in the last year? How is it possible that we have not yet captured Bin Laden? Why hasn’t Bush been forced to resign?

These are questions that I try not to think about. These are questions that make me want to move to Canada. I never watched the movie “The Seige”, (and heard it wasn’t that great) but for some reason I’m struck suddenly wanting to watch it.

I AM yelling.

I can’t believe I didn’t post a single poem in august. Here’s one to commiserate:

i AM yelling.

you can’t see me
flailing emotive words
floundering in political spittle
perturbed by right-wing flies on MY wall

because I’m pretending Twain was right
I’ll appear less ignorant in silence

you know I avoid confrontation?
I’m an independent-opinion-armada,
rusting in a placid bay of political-agoraphobia.

but i AM yelling
a megaphone in a soundproof balloon
and some-particularly-frustrating-day…

tonight seems as good a

tonight seems as good a time as any to sit and try to think of something to say. The last day or so I’ve felt acutely aware of how menial my blog has been lately. I talk of nothing but trivial moments and events, the very blogstuff I abhor when I’m reading someone else’s blog for the first time. Is it wrong though, for me to never want to read what I am actually producing? What does that say about the two or three people who follow this thing regularly?

I used to say, I have nothing to say, and I am saying it, that is poetry. (or someone else used to say it, and I stole it, no doubt.) Now, I have nothing to say, and I am saying it, that is… I blog it.

Here I am, laying in

Here I am, laying in bed, updating from the laptop. We got our linksys yesterday, and it’s amazing. Absolutely no setup required. I did, of course, change some things, like admin passwords, and network name, but it worked as soon as I plugged it in. Also notable–signal strength is at full no matter where I am in the house. I’m not sure if the signal strength indicator just doesn’t work without apple’s airport, or if it really is this strong… I will have to walk down the block whith my laptop sometime and see how far I can go.

I am very close to having movable type all configured on, so expect a redirect in the next couple of days. (the blog is all set up, but I haven’t imported anything yet, and my templates need work before I switch too.)

Happy birthday me. Birthdays are

Happy birthday me.

Birthdays are so lame. I’m always depressed on them. Today is no different. I don’t know why. I have great friends and family, I’m in a great place in my life (with notable exceptions), I got a bj for breakfast this morning… what could I possibly have to complain about? Nothing really.

What do I end up thinking about all morning: Why haven’t I written a novel yet? Why am I still working in the suburbs? Why does 70% of the joy in my life revolve around playing the latest and greatest video games? Why can’t I have a car that doesn’t come up with a different strange noise every few weeks? Why does my house have bats?

*heavy, pathetic sigh*

I wanted to leave early today, it still might happen, but suddenly instead of a short project that’s almost done, I have 3 short projects that will probably tie me up till the end of the week. I may still steal an hour or two and play with MT.

better living through blogistry. so

better living through blogistry. so much to blog about today.

This morning I read through the blog of an old friend of mine (ok, an old x). She admits to having two blogs, but will only give me the URL for one, and I’m not suppose to post it, (sorry). But anyway, we haven’t kept in touch all that well. I was ashamed to find she’d been at it longer than me. (This raises some interesting issues… I mean, why should I care?)

But far more interesting issues were raised by her blog itself. If we shared one thing in common (in the list of things that failed to keep us together,) it was a hatred for organized religion, and she’s not afraid to show it in some of her posts. In general I don’t think I write enough about politics and/or religion. Last week sometime, yami and I had a conversation about why I hate thinking about these things (it was kind of a conversation stopper, now that I look back on it) and I decided it was because my opinions differ so vastly from that of the “norm” that I get frustrated easily. I shouldn’t allow that frustration to silence my loathing! (Her poetry has also improved since we dated, and although it lacks a certain crazy randomness I remember, it’s really quite good.)

The three day weekend update: Where I become a letch out at fest on Sat and Sun–also I have the revelation that fantasies I perceive as within (or very near to) my grasp are actually much farther out of reach than imagination would have me believe.

…Where I play Mario Sunshine for like 20 hours and get a wavebird controller from Nate for my birthday. Where I buy laura 3 different Kirby video games, including the one where you actually tip around your gameboy to control which direction kirby “rolls”.

…Where I have this revelation multiple times: “I own a house. I actually own one. Really.” And where I help Nate screw our storm door back on the front of our house, thus using the drill/screwdriver Laura bought me for the first time.