Poetry Unplugged

Poetry Unplugged's cave

Poetry Unplugged is the only open mic I've read at in London. It's not because I like the room which is the tiny basement of the Poetry Cafe. Yes, it has a certain funky charm but it also gets very crowded, stuffy and extremely hot. And it's not because everything read at Poetry Unplugged, or any open mic, spoken word or slam event, is wonderful because it's not. It's because Poetry Unplugged is early enough, it's not held in a shitty, noisy bar and, for the most part, the people who show up to read there are not pretentious dicks who swagger through their own reading then leave.

The credit goes to the MC, poet Niall O'Sullivan. He does a wonderful job of keeping things interesting, fair, fun and moving. That said, included below is a review of the event which, to my delight and his credit, Niall posted on his own blog.

One of the worst evenings I’ve ever endured was at an event called Poetry Unplugged. About 50 people were crammed into a sweaty basement, all perched expectantly on orange plastic chairs. How nice, I thought, to see such an enthusiastic audience for poetry. As one figure after another leapt up to read their doggerel, the truth dawned. They were all here not to listen, but to perform. They would suffer each other's poetic rants, but only for their moment of glory. A woman in a red wig recited a poem about her vagina. A man in a blue jumper did a lengthy lament on lost love. It was a very long night.

Duh. Of course people are there to read but it's not the feeding frenzy this nube describes. Generally people are pretty open to each other at readings but come on! Why wouldn't that include a little quid pro quo? Yet, for all the years I've read at these things, I am still prone to what is sometimes breath stopping shyness. At the reading two weeks ago it hit me full force. By my second poem I basically caught up with my breath but that night I never fully got into the words.

Uncle Monkey, Ugly Bear and Clarence
discussing my NaNo manuscript

This week I was more at ease. The difference? Before reading I acknowledged my nervousness to the audience. Simple, right? No. When I got to the mic it was all I could do to glance at people and whisper, "I'm really nervous". Still it was enough to break the tension. It also helped I read Jazz which is more a performance piece than anything else.

I extracted it from the NaNoWriMo "novel" I wrote a few years ago. In fact, thus far these four paragraphs are all I have used from that entire 50,000 word manuscript. No worries. I may even write a second one some November. I loved banging through a month of crazy intensity, 2000 words a day, the world be damned, though no doubt it helped that I had zero expectations and no plot. I naturally share the NaNo point of view, "No plot? No Problem!". 

The cafe is now closed until the first of September. We leave London in about a week so that's it for me this time around.

FiveOWriteO

The term came out of one of those word jazz sessions Kristiana, M. Lee and I were having the other day, at my expense. At the time it was FiveOWriMo. Later I changed it to FiveOWriteO or its colloquial fiveowriteo. Of course, both are based on the now famous NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which has, over the years, kicked a significant number of people off their duffs to take the plunge, resulting in huge gobs and boatloads of words getting launched during the month of November and some manuscripts actually becoming published works of whatever. Even I managed to assemble 50,000 words one November spurred on by the collective frenzy. Don't ask. The deal with FiveOWriteO is to write for five minutes everyday, one day at a time. Of course, a commitment to write five, f-i-v-e,  5 little minutes a day will only be of interest to individuals suffering from writer's block, which includes me. "Writers write, Owen" . Smirk all you like, writer's block is a drag. So, of course, the important thing about a FiveOWriteO is the word "write" because write is a verb.

And yes, I've been telling myself for years to set a daily time and write. I used to tell myself to write four hours a day. When I failed at that I lowered the time to two hours a day, that became one, then one half-hour, which worked until it didn't.

I've been doing my fiveowriteo for about a month now and have gotten quite attached to this little morning interlude. God, that must sound so pathetic. I am embarrassed to discuss it, even here, but now Roy at Blogorahma has upped the stakes and started occasionally posting his five minutes worth (thanks a lot, Roy). His, of course, are good. Mine are not and they are really short but, these days, I'm grateful to be writing at all so, in the spirit of fun and fair play, I am posting this morning's fiveowriteo.

It's hard to make a beginning without a starting point. I do not have one. I start over and over from the middle of nowhere. Is it some kind of twisted snobbery to forego a beginning? A foundation? An idea? The spiral continues its twist. Over and over, Billy (Collins) starts at his window. It is not his privilege alone, something he himself makes abundantly clear. "The poets are at their windows." And I am at mine only, for now, my window is the screen porch.

I am sitting in my screen porch. It is morning. The black birds are at work on the peanuts and seeds. It is 2:26 PM in Addis Ababa. I have never been to Addis Ababa but have wondered about it since I was a child. I leave the porch and wander the shade of its narrow, winding, packed-sand passageways which open occasionally onto bazaars filled with wares and food of every description. The whole scene is ablaze with color and swelters under makeshift canopies and tents and throbs with a cacophony of voices, braying, cawing, banging and music. People look down on the scene from tiny balconies attached to brightly painted buildings.

And then I am back on Alligator Creek with the dive-bombing black birds who, in the time it took to visit Addis Ababa and return, snatched all the peanuts from under Frida Kahlo the squirrel's memorial pineapple palm tree before the squirrels arrive.

References:
Friday by Roy deGregory
Monday by Billy Collins

How to avoid meaningful work and meaningless despair

In case you happen to be doing NaNoWriMo this year, Paula over at Lite Motifs has posted a list of things you can do to avoid working on your project. Her suggestions are very useful, not only for NaNoers, but for anyone wanting to distract themselves from pressing and important work. And, as distraction is my special area of expertise, I felt compelled to add a couple of ideas to her list. They work. I myself managed to waste today's precious last hour of daylight drudging them up and writing this post.

For starters, try this zippy but soothing video of guys getting left behind when the International Space Station reboosts. Then watch and re-watch it again and again and again for, you know, as many times as you can stand it.

And if you still need more, because if you're looking for more you've already watch an ungodly number of cat videos, there are always surfer dog videos. I include them as a special homage to dear little Bella the happy dog, recently departed. Surfer dog videos are like popcorn. You mindlessly want more, even during times of deep despair when life is slipping through your fingers and you are crushed by an overwhelming sense of meaningless tedium and you are least able to remember when you last had even one fleeting second of fun.

More surfer dog videos.

We just got back from Southern Oregon. We were there to attend a going away party for a longtime friend who is moving to Portland which is located far far away at the other end of the state. About 150 people showed up. It was very nice. Everybody loves him. He's a sweet guy. And we saw lots of old friends. After the slideshow, whoever wanted to shared at the mic and the event took a decided turn, becoming more a memorial than farewell roast. The fact is, he is dying. Everybody knows it. Nobody mentioned it but most of us realized we will probably never see him again. Life. We are now entering the part where, one by one, we begin leaving the stage.

And I got a rejection (with comments) from The Fine Line, one of the magazines to which I recently submitted poems. In case you're wondering, a rejection with comments is preferable to getting a rejection without one. I submitted two poems to this particular magazine. The other is still "in progress".

You can't edit a blank page

I need a reader. This spring I finally dug up and printed out my now four-year-old NaNoWriMo manuscript and am currently halfway through the first read. Other than being determined to make the required word count, having had no expectations from the start is a good thing. The fact that I can read it at all is encouraging but it's a slow go. Thus far, I have managed only two sessions, months apart. I am surprised to find that it amuses me. This morning one particular section had me laughing out loud. Why can't that be enough? I said from the beginning that there would be no plot but, now that the manuscript exists, it needs one. Why does this all have to be so goddamn complicated? I read the funny part to Mr. Lee this morning but he wants a story goddammit. I'll read it when it has one. He's not a first draft kind of guy. That fucker would red pen a suicide note.


So I am half way through the first read and won't inflict it on anyone at the moment, but I need a reader. Okay. Okay. So that reader will have the same response as Mr. Lee, but WTF?! I have assembled 50,000, 12 pt. words on 197 double spaced, one inch margin pages. What else do you want from me? Blood? I know. A plot. And there is one, buried throughout the manuscript, like a dismembered body. Yes. Yes. I must sew my Frankenstein together but what the hell? That's work. Anyway, somewhere along the line I am going to need a reader, not a teacher, a reader. Doesn't every writer get a reader? I need a sounding board, someone to complete the loop between the ears, self to self, heart to head, someone who can help piece together the map of the story, the one I wrote in invisible ink, tore into tiny pieces and ate. Anyway, it's too soon for a reader. Just thinking out loud.

Cruel world but there's always NaNoWriMo if you don't feel bad enough already

I had laugh at the photo my daughter emailed me yesterday. So much for the new toy I sent Owen the dog. I guess it lasted about a day. Cruel world. The santa bear I gave him for Christmas lasted a week.

The big news around here is that the other day I finally printed out the manuscript I wrote a few years ago during NaNoWriMo. I finished it a day or two before the Nov. 30th deadline, or more accurately I belly crawled past the required 50,000 word finish line, called it good, encrypted it and emailed it to the NaNo word counter bot who counted it in about two seconds then shot back my NaNoWriMo "winner" badge, sort of like receiving a gold metal in the "special" Olympics. I then filed the manuscript and that was that. I never read it and tried not to think about it.

However, I thought I might have lost it during a recent computer upgrade so the other day, out of curiosity, I went looking. The shame over writing such total crap has kind of faded. Time heals. And there it was. It seemed harmless enough so I released it from it's digital limbo. It lives incarnate in the world as black ink on white paper. It looks impressive, especially printed out in 12 pt. Courier, double spaced with 1" margins, 197 pages of .... well ... words. I started reading it and kind of like some of it, although it is shamelessly about nothing. Uncle Monkey, Ugly Bear and Clarence are dubious.


Other than that, I'm headed up to the lake this morning. Some writer friends, also NaNoWriMo gold medalists, put together a weekend retreat. I planned on going last night but got to the base of the Sierra and was turned back by the flashing red CHAINS REQUIRED sign. I'm sure most people forged on, chains or no, but I did not. Okay. Gotta go.

NaNo Portland news

I am still on the mailing lists of three regional NaNoWriMo forums from last year - SF/SAC , NV Elsewhere and Portland - and am vicariously enjoying the hubbub as November draws near. Perhaps I should get a life. Anyway, I know a couple of you Portlanders have decided to do the marathon this time and, in case you haven't joined your local NaNo group yet (do it), here's the kickoff news. From now on you guys are on your own. Got to keep my co-dependency in check. I highly recommend you get to know some of the local participants. Fellow writers. Expand your world. The first event is THIS Saturday.

October 27
*Kickoff Gathering* THIS saturday, 3-5pm
US Bank Room, Central Library, 801 SW 10th Ave
http://www.multcolib.org/agcy/cen.html
It will be a time for people new to NaNoWriMo and/or Portland to learn more about the wonderful craziness that is NaNoWriMo and the extreme fabulousness of our region. Returning folks can reconnect with those they haven't seen since last November. We'll all get energized and inspired for another incredible month of writing mania.

If you would like to bring a snack to share at the Kickoff, please do so.

October 31
*Halloween Midnight Write-in (east side)*
Fireside Coffee Lodge, 1223 SE Powell Blvd
http://firesidecoffeelodge.com
Get there some time before 12:00 am Nov 1 if you can't bear to wait any longer to start writing. The Fireside is open 24-hours so you can stay as long as you want. Please plan to spend at least $2.50 to support the Fireside. Electrical outlets and free wireless internet available. Thanks to Connie (Gostiee), who is also our regional ML for Script Frenzy, for organizing this event!

October 31
*Halloween Midnight Write-in (west side)*
Ava Roasteria, 4655 SW Hall Ave, Beaverton
http://www.avaroasteria.com/
Get there some time before 12:00 am Nov 1 if you can't bear to wait any longer to start writing. Ava Roasteria is open 24-hours so you can stay as long as you want. Please plan to spend at least $2.50 to support the cafe. Electrical outlets and free wireless internet available. ML Stephen is organizing this event.

November 1
*Downtown Write-in*, 5-7pm
Pioneer Place Mall food court
ML Heather is organizing this event

Ps. If you do nothing else, at least check out the Fireside Coffee Lodge. This is where the Halloween Midnight Write-in is taking place. It's open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Good to know when the midnight writing frenzy is upon you.

NaNoWriMo tips

my apologies to Benedetta Bonichi for screwing with her beautiful artwork.

"Art is never finished, only abandoned." - Leonardo da Vinci

To which I add, "To abandon a work, one must first begin it."

NaNoWriMo is coming up and for those of you preparing to do it this year, here are the tips as promised.

Abandon all, ye who enter here.
Husband/wife/partner/children/friends/pets/work associates/probation officer. Let them all know in advance that they are on their own for the month of November, orphans all, no exceptions. One successful NaNo writer here in Reno, she completed 3 manuscripts in the last 3 years, prepares in October. She fills the freezer with frozen dinners, stuffs the pantry with snacks and easy to prepare boxed meals, soup to nuts, to keep the family alive while she lives the dream. They will survive. November is novel writing month. They can deal with it if you make it clear in advance that this is their only option. Don't worry. Besides, it is over all too soon.

Be a slob.
Another thing this woman does is buy a few sets of cheap sweat pants and tops in advance so that she doesn't have to think about what she's going to wear during NaNoWriMo. If you have to deal with a dress code at work, church, seeing your PO ... whatever ... figure it all out now. You don't want to waste time doing it November.

Word count is everything.
Tell the damn Internal Editor to take a hike. Don't edit. Write. No exceptions. Be a word slut. Keep the fingers moving no matter how nasty the writing may be. One thing I did to throw my IE off the scent was change the color of my font from black to white. Silly as that may sound, it helped.

Avoid distractions at all cost.
Admit your powerlessness over people, places and things. For example, I quickly learned that I could not write in my office because when I am here I always end up down the rabbit hole. Guaranteed. It starts simply enough. Got to go to dictionary.com to look up a word or hop on google for a flash to check a reference. Lies! All lies! Once I get online it's over so I pulled the plug. I took a crummy old laptop, left the wi-fi card at home, and ran to a public place almost every day. It cost me maybe 100 bucks in bistro coffee, food and gas but it was worth it. Consider it office rent. Cheap.

Word count is EVERYTHING.
Don't Do not use contractions. Avoid hyphenated words. Expand. Let the bullshit flow. You've got what it takes. I know you do!

Participate in the NaNo community.
Join a regional NaNo forum. Don't think that you are better than everyone else, that they are amateurs and you the real writer. You can do it for 30 days. Support is vital. Visit the NaNo site often. Listen to NaNo Radio. It helps you remember what you are doing. I also donated to the project, the minimum 10 bucks which put a golden halo over my name in the forums. Besides being a way to express my appreciation for all the work the organizers put into it, I felt more a part of things. Trust me. It helps.

Get some writing buddies.
Get competitive. It makes it more real. Go to a local write-in. Get down with other crazy writers in your area. Remember, they are also trying to write the first draft of their novel in 30 days.

Don't fall behind!
If you do, the wolves will get you.

my apologies to Toby Mitchel for screwing with his charming artwork.

Write damnit! WRITE!
1666.6666666666666666666666666667 words a day. Once ya get yer groove goin, ain't no thang. Stay up to catch up. This is your month to go crazy so go crazy! If you have prepared your circle properly, they won't try to talk you out of it when your hair starts arcing with electrostatic energy.

No, I won't be participating this year. I haven't done anything with the still steaming 50,000 word pile I did last year but I will be there in spirit and checking up on your progress. It's a blast. Love it. Treat yourself to the madness and the fun. It's worth the trouble.

Hi ho

Tomorrow I am going in for carpal tunnel surgery and am trying not to obsess on the fact that I can't eat or drink anything after midnight. It's a re-do and this time ... THIS TIME ... I am going to give it enough time to heal. Yes indeedy. My poor right hand is in need of four separate repairs, undoubtedly karma, a use it or lose it kind of thing, because I still haven't written the book that keeps swimming circles in my mind like a damn shark.

Not that I don't want to write it, mind you, plus November is bearing down on us like LARGE MARGE's semi. You know what that means. NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Already I am receiving GET READY emails from the NaNo guys and feel the pull as though a gigantic hot full moon were rising in my head. But NO! I am not going to ride the cyclone this year. One, because I don't want to put undo stress on my hand. I'll save that for pressing matters such as commenting on political blogs. Two, because I still haven't done anything with the 50,000 words I mashed through my keyboard last year. Once I received my NaNo winner gif, I closed my password protected manuscript, sent it to several of my email accounts for safe keeping, and didn't look at it again for months. When I did, I was overcome by vertigo. Nevertheless, if you're thinking about doing it, go for it. What have you got to lose? Your sanity? ... whahahahaha .... Ahem. Excuse me. Well, it is a mind altering experience but I love that shit. Since I don't do drugs anymore, gotta get it however I can.

Haste makes ...

Ten minutes before the NAC deadline this evening I ran up the stairs to their office clutching my still drying submissions packet but half way up I tripped and crushed it with both my hands. I smoothed it out although it instantly went from a nice, clean envelope to looking like it had been in the back of a pick-up truck for a week. I made it in the door, they stamped it and that was that until about an hour later when I realized that, due to a last minute edit, I had included a duplication and therefore failed to meet the criteria of 10 poems. Fucking Lovely. Have I learned anything besides the fact that I am an arrogant idiot? Perhaps. How about give yourself enough time to do it right ... or ... pay attention ... or don't run on the stairs. Anyway, I got several new poems out of the deal so I'm not complaining plus I finally opened my NaNoWriMo manuscript from last fall and didn't want to commit suicide after reading a few paragraphs. I just got home after reading some of the new work at Comma Coffee's open mike. It helped me come down a bit. I am still rattling off of the caffeine and adrenalin high. I want to grow up now.

Seattle, omens and images

I don't need no stinkin flash, she said.
Dinner party

I'm back from Seattle and running to catch up with unfinished business here. I worked in the garden all day yesterday, didn't touch my computer and went to bed achy and scratchy. It felt good. I spent most of today helping someone out with a project and then back to the garden. I want everything I planted yesterday to grow immediately into a tall, green secret world into which I can disappear at will. Tomorrow I must prepare a submissions packet for the Nevada Arts Council Fellowship deadline this Friday. Third time running but I don't expect it to be a charm. So far, I printed out the entry form but that's it. I promised myself I'd open my NaNoWriMo manuscript from last November to see if there is anything in it I can harvest. That should be painful. Mostly, I consider this exercising the idea of "writing for money".

Aunt Peggy,

beauty and mind destroyed by alcoholism

For now, here are a few photos from last week. The one WATCH YOUR STEP turned out to be rather prophetic. I knew it at the time and almost didn't take it hoping to ward off its dire prediction but no point in that. Things are what they are. It was wonderful spending time with my family but the lines twisted with my daughter, as they often seem to do. I thought it was hard being a mother's daughter but the fact is I was very difficult. The justice is that it can be so much more painful being a daughter's mother. I made so many mistakes along the way that even now they cast a chill shadow but this evening I did manage to put a few peanuts out before the 7 o'clock magpie arrived. At least I got that right.

Union St. wall

Urban wildlife

Union St. steps

University of Washington

Chinatown window

Morning, Lake Washington

Farmers Market afternoon

Uwajimaya grocery section

Seattle Public Library "Red Hall"

In passing

NaNoWriMo ends tonight at 11:59:59. I'm glad I'm already done. I would hate to be grinding words out at this late hour but I'm sure people are. Right now the collective word count is 909,464,173. Crazy. So... to commemorate the end of the wonderful madness that is NaNoWriMo, here is a recent photo I took up in Virginia City during my daughter's Thanksgiving visit and a great little poem by A. E. Housman. I think the two compliment one another and NaNoWriMo in a fitting and oblique way.

Infant Innocence
A.E. Housman

The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild;
He has devoured the infant child.
The infant child is not aware
It has been eaten by the bear.

Nevada poetry Housman

NaNo's end and holiday cheer

Virginia City, Nevada
Big happings around the Language Barrier. First off, my daughter and her very nice fiance came home for a Thanksgiving visit. We had a great time. Also, I finished NaNoWriMo while they were here. That's 50,000 words in one month, babeee! Naturally my ... uh... novel ... is crap, throat clearing, but I expected that. It was all about the word count. It is a beginning or not but at least I got out from under the boot of the bastard inner editor for a month. And like they say, you can't edit a blank page. Anyway, I hate to disappoint you but that's it for the What I did on Thanksgiving and My NaNoWriMo posts for now. I've got errands to finish before the snow hits. In the meantime, here's a little casino love to keep you going. I recorded this from the platform of the huge, crazy, indoor mining diorama at the Silver Legacy in Reno. Enjoy.




Silver Legacy casino, Reno, Nevada
00:58











nanowrimo

Reality cliff notes

Today at washingtonpost.com Joshua Muravchik, a neoconservative at the American Enterprise Institute, is quoted as saying

"There's a question to be sorted out: whether the war was a sound idea but very badly executed or was the mistake the idea itself?

Hmmm??? Let's see .....
preemptive war....

sound idea very badly executed
or
is the mistake the idea itself?

Rummy or the neocon agenda?
Rummy or the neocon agenda?
Rummy or the neocon (i.e. fascist) agenda?

Warning: plot spoiler ahead...

The geniuses in the neocon think tanks will do their best to keep our focus on Rummy and off themselves and Bush Inc. for as long as we will let them. Heaven forbid any of them should have to take responsibility for anything! But it's an obvious answer so I'm not really spoiling anything when I say that, even beyond the fact that the "reasons" they gave us were big fat lies, invading Iraq was a very bad idea. Using the American military or mercenaries to invade sovereign nations is a terrible, terrible idea and if you have half a brain or one quarter ounce of moral fiber you know it too so why should we pretend otherwise or wait for a cabal of spiritually retarded geniuses to decide for us?

Ken Adelman (the guy who famously said that invading Iraq would be a "cakewalk") is suffering from shattered ideals: "The whole philosophy of using American strength for good in the world, for a foreign policy that is really value-based instead of balanced-power-based, I don't think is disproven by Iraq. But it's certainly discredited."

Actions speak louder than words, Ken.

Ken is right about one thing though. Invading Iraq did make "them" more "like us" ... violent.

But I indulge myself. It's still November, NaNoWriMo time. I've got miles to write before I sleep.






iraq neoconservatism bush

Life beyond NaNoWriMo?

Twilight.
Nevada State Legislature
from Comma Coffee

I didn't get any writing done today and less than a thousand yesterday so tomorrow it's back to Comma Coffee for a NaNoDay ... just me and the laptop, no editor, no plot, no problem. I'm doing okay, 38,008 words - 51 pages, but I have to keep at it. I would like to be done by the time my daughter and her finance arrive next week for Thanksgiving. Here's what's odd. At this point I have separation anxiety whenever I think about finishing this thing. I have grown very fond of NaNoWriMo.










NaNoWriMo

Don't shoot the piano player!

Piano serenade, Comma Coffee in the morning

Friday was a long day in NaNoWriMo land. I met some friends in the morning at the Comma for a NaNo write and stayed until 4:30. Susan did about 3500 words but I didn't even break a thousand. I don't work well mixing writing time with a social event. I didn't go to the Reno write yesterday for the same reason. Rasabhasa. In general though the Comma is a fine place to write, surf, read, meet friends, day dream, study, people watch, give a poetry reading, oh and get a cup of coffee or have a few drinks. It's directly across the street from the Nevada State Legislature and in the middle of the legal district, even the Governor lives a few blocks away so on any given day you might see politicians, skate boarders, lawyers, outlaws, old ladies playing Mahjong, the cat, or geeks on laptops wiling away the hours together. This morning some guy cranked out a couple of saloon tunes to nobody in particular on the tin-voiced piano. If you listen carefully to the video, you can hear snippets in the background of a conversation a couple of women are having with an 82 year old man about the politics of "messin' around." Nevada. Ya gotta love it.

NaNo9

So far the denizens of NaNoWriMo have churned out nearly 300 million word since the beginning of the month and just over 18,000 of them mine ... screamin', eyes closed, seat of the pants BAD writing but it's all about the word count, babee. It's madness but as I've gotten through the first week and am still on the word track I decided to dig in deeper by posting the NaNo participant badge in the sidebar. Now my neck is really on the block. Yikes! Okay. Gotta run. I'm going to a Reno write-in tonight and lots to do before then.

November days and mercy for piggies

Okay then. Thanks to everybody in the Great Blue Wave. Bush Boy got a real spanking, as did Karl the Cheat, the Rummy Devil and the rest of the smarmy minions infesting our government. It occurred to me (again) last night just how fond I am of hating George W. Bush and Co.. It gives a certain clarity and snap to things but it's sick. I've got better things to do than focus on these assholes. They are, at best, a measure for corruption, greed, immorality and ineptitude. We'll be digging out of the pit they dumped us in for generations.




Plus, though they got a beating in the polls last night, these fascist bastards have no intention of throwing in the towel. The "price of freedom" is the same as it was in Jefferson's day, "eternal vigilance". With this election we backed them into a corner but they will exploit our every weakness and moment of inattention. The work of reinstating our Constitution and resuscitating our Democracy has only just begun.




But there is one election victory I am especially celebrateing today. Arizonans voted for humane treatment of farm animals. They passed Proposition 204 which bans gestation crates for breeding pigs and veal crates for young calves. Agribusiness and other special interests spent $2.5 million to defeat Proposition 204. Arizona is the second state in the nation to ban gestation crates and the first state to ban veal crates. The vote was 61 percent in favor and only 39 percent opposed. YEAH! Compassion wins the vote! That is world changing news.




But enough of this madness, at least for the moment. It's November, NaNoWriMo time. I've got just over 15,000 words to date and nothing yesterday. I've got to get to work. I'm headed back to Comma Coffee. At home, I'm glued to the election results andyet another blog post. At the Comma I can escape these distractions and write all day on one cup of coffee. June has power strips everywhere and lots of interesting furniture and things to blend in with. I've got to get there before someone else claims my favorite corner. Here's a few photos from Comma Coffee that I took the other day. That's it for now.












election blue streak animal rights

Carson City Friday nanowrite

I am meeting a couple of other people at Comma Coffee this Friday for a NaNo write-in. We'll be there from 10:30 in the morning until whenever. Join us if you can.


NaNoWriMo is madness and I love/hate it but whatever I think about it, I have currently written over 11,000 word because of it. I even wake up in the morning with the silly little NaNoWriMo song running through my head:

It's November. Here we go again.
NaNoWriMo. Here we go again.
I'll be writin' fifty thousand words.
I may go crazy before the end.

Mr. Lee is even infected with it. Hahaha!


Note to the Inner Critic: FUCK OFF! It's all about the word count babeee.

Chillin'

Things are pretty mellow around here right now. After his stunning Halloween performance last night Lucky Pete is basking in the whole troupe's admiration. In fact he has been hanging out with Monsieur La Chance all day, who has taken him under his wing and been trying to convince him to give up, as he says, that bastard version of his fine French name. It is his opinion, of course, that form is everything but we shall see. Lucky Pete, or Pierre as the case may be, is a proud fellow even in a clown suit and obviously not one to be controlled by other people's or cat's opinions.

As for me, I wrote 2955 words on this, the first day of NaNoWriMo. PURE CRAP! TERRIBLE STUFF! I'd rather throw myself off a cliff and into the thrashing sea than let anyone read it but hey, it's all about the word count. When I was done my head felt like a blob of sour, warm meat. Well that's it from this outpost border crossing. Now I'm off to Otherland. G'night.

Halloween and NaNoWriMo eve

Tonight marks two distinct, but not wholly dissimilar, events. Grito and Lucky Pete (as he calls himself these days) have been outside waiting since this afternoon but trick or treaters didn't appear until after dark.




After the children are gone and the streets are completely given over to the spirits of the underworld the second phase of the night begins. Then my friend Susan and I are going to meet at a nearby casino coffee shop to await the final stroke of midnight. Then the dead return to the nether regions. Then the mad soul of NaNoWriMo rises in the infernal dark. Then the writing begins.

Halloween