Fairy tale

Once upon a time, our friends were rock stars. Everyone played in a band. They named their band Beatrice, Cordelia's Dad, The Hollywood Indians, or B*tch Magnet. They bought glam-rock electric guitars. They wrote their own songs -- "Chili dog with cheese;" "Freddie is a liar (and a f***ing cheater);" "Now there's a dentist in the mall." They thought too much. They had to drink a lot, to compensate for all the thinking. They smoked bidis and cloves, which were taken for joints by wandering beat cops. And then, one by one, they disappeared.

Remy's favorite flavor

My poems Abundance and Grimes Grave are up in Blood Orange Review. Blood orange is Remy's favorite flavor of gelato. They didn't have it at Istria Cafe today, so he had lemon. Which is good, too.

6 degrees of humdrum

So, I've been tagged by Sarah (I think). I have to list 6 unspectacular things about me. Here goes:

1. I'm an outie. This may or may not be related to the fact that I was born with a hole in my stomach wall. It was supposed to close up as I grew, but it never did.

2. When I was little, I was deathly afraid of the muppets. Especially the two men on the balcony. I think they were critics.

3. I could eat eggplant at every meal.

4. I have never been able to drink 8 glasses of water a day. Four, maybe. If it's hot out.

5. I am the only one of six sisters (and our mother) who can throw anything away. Their idea of getting rid of stuff is to pack it up and mail it to me. Seriously, I've gotten packaged food from them that expired in the 80s -- and don't get me started on the box full of shoulder pads.

6. I can move both my eyebrows independently. But I can't wiggle my ears.

Okay, so, the rules:
1. link the person who tagged you: Sarah
2. mention the rules on your blog
3. list 6 unspectacular things about you
4. tag 6 other bloggers by linking them.

Six? Really? How about 1: Valerie.

My mother's basket is full of straw

I was reading about Kanga writings in a dictionary of Swahili proverbs, and came across this one:

Kikapu cha mama kimejaa ndago : My mother's basket is full of straw.

When I first read it, I assumed it meant "poverty" or "lack"-- "My family has nothing of value: no food, no money, no spun gold. Just straw." Actually, it means just the opposite. Straw is an important resource for many Swahili-speakers in Eastern Africa. Women use it to make a whole bunch of things, from floor mats to fans. So, a basket full of straw evokes a sense of plenitude, abundance, security. Your mother's basket is full of straw: what better fortune?

kaleidowhirl

The new issue of kaleidowhirl is up, and it has my poems Chorale and Curtis Pond in it. Yay! An awesome way to end the summer.