When She Was Good

Where Does The Time Go?

2006-09-20T03:56:00.000-04:00

When you are drunk? When you are in love?

Yes, crabby is in love and has been taking a hiatus wherefore.

Everything dissipates, all the problems, all the confusion, when you know.

Yes, It's Still Ongoing, Smart Guy.

2006-07-26T04:30:00.000-04:00

Wake up with a refreshing cup of crabby.

Summer's First Night

2006-06-22T12:43:00.000-04:00

I went into Manhattan to hear a singer last night. You can't tell, but she is wearing a hot pink corset. I am inspired.

I drank two Twisted Teas, took one bad picture, and in a roundabout way, paid for an autograph. Perhaps even more exciting, the man in front of me had a Corona with dinner.

There Is Life Beyond These Four Walls

2006-06-19T11:32:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I feel as though as I am standing on the edge of a great adventure.

Pretty as a postcard; wish you were here.

We move through mountains when it suits us.

On the way to Cape Disappointment, just past Dismal Niche.

Right now, somewhere, life is simple.

Sitting up on a sleepy turtle, I am sure they see me and giggle when I squat to pee for the very first time.

The accidental crab wonders, was there ever such a sky?

Break the Tape

2006-06-15T19:25:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make; I never actually finished that haiku challenge of my own creation. Sure, I spit out plenty, but it is the principle: I never finished.

This is the one that stumped me at the time. Nothing I wrote for it made sense. I produced used-up, ill-humored comments about movies and video games. It deserved better. A lot of what I posted deserves better and perhaps I'll revisit them someday; I am still convinced the googlism project has merit! In the meantime, this is really it, the end, the final piece in an exhausting puzzle.

crabby is the latest from

for M.M.

Occasionally
someone happens along and

everything changes.

Clearly We Will Have To Turn And Come Home Soon

2006-06-15T09:30:00.000-04:00

The end of the road is sometimes just the beginning.

Jerky wouldn't stop walking while Ronald McDonald's ghost made an eerie advertising appearance over his left shoulder.

Get your ducks in a row.

I keep thinking about when my brother went to Europe and she told him to sit towards the tail to have the best chance of surviving a crash.

And then the sun starts rising, and I can see the arc of a planet below me; child-like and amazed, while the woman next to me furrows her forehead because she forgot how incredible this was years ago.

No camine fuera de esta area, por favor.

Waiting for the gremlin.

The world looks patchwork and pleasant; people are immeasurably tiny and so are the problems.

Apologies

2006-06-13T10:29:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I took an airplane ride, a couple in fact. I hadn't done that, for good reason, in almost a quarter century. I hate flying. Call me crazy but I have a strong fear of being suspended 30,000 feet in the air without a parachute.

As I took a last look at my tsunami hazard zone of a room, this is what glared back at me.

I immediately imagined how, should anything, er, happen, I would forever be the girl who left her bra on the floor. And what a bra to boot. You'd think it could have been something black and lacy. No, it's practically a cross-your-heart. Le groan.

The pathetic, smushed cups were enough to shame me into stuffing them into a laundry bag before leaving. It even prompted me to make a few last minute organizational maneuvers, but it was much too late to start spring cleaning.

On the ride to the airport the state of my affairs peculiarly tagged along. It was much too late to tell them.

If I really thought I wasn't coming back, I suppose I wouldn't have gone. If I was wrong, though, what a mess I'd have left behind.

Commutation

2006-05-22T02:15:00.000-04:00

A luxury sign in neon. An urban oxymoron.

Unmistakable arches and the road home.

Brooklyn's best-kept secret: Furman Street.

They Lied

2006-05-17T01:13:00.000-04:00

I just ate a candy bar for the first time in years.

And you know what? It was totally unsatisfying.

Take a walk down memory lane: more corporate baloney*.

*The author wishes to take a moment to impress upon you the comic significance of the American spelling.

JFK

2006-05-15T19:55:00.000-04:00

At the airport, the famed TWA terminal welcomes you.

At the airport, New York's own monorail.

At the airport, my best friend and I went our separate ways.

Is Anyone Paying Attention To This?

2006-05-04T12:32:00.000-04:00

"You had to live--did live, from habit that became instinct--in the assumption
that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized."

George Orwell

The New York City Police Department has begun implementing a plan to further secure the city, and Brooklyn is the lucky guinea pig. Out in Bushwick, clearly marked security cameras have been placed overlooking key intersections that well, you wouldn't necessarily want to find yourself walking through at night--or ever. Apparently too, there has been some positive response from the people on the street, shop owners reporting that the bad element who previously spent most of their time loitering in this particular place have all but disappeared.

Well fine. They've vanished from "three consecutive intersections on Knickerbocker," but into thin air? Hardly. So what exactly are we accomplishing here, and at what expense?

It bothers me that in the few weeks since it's been formally announced, no one seems to be talking about it. There was a vague mention of it at Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn. I was able to find articles in the New York Post, Newsday, The Daily News, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, and The Wall Street Journal Online, though not all are available now. There's this bit at Brownstowner, but really beyond that, the opinionated world remains largely quiet indicating a complete lack of concern.

I understand that the practice has its benefits in that what self-respecting criminal will engage in illegal activity under a clearly marked security camera? (Wait, don't answer that smart guy.) Thing is, what's a bit disturbing is the way people are calling this latest in Bushwick a "debut", or "just the beginning." Lower Manhattan will soon be spotted with such security that stops just short of surveillance, (as I understand it now, the NYPD will not be sitting on the other end of the picture via a TV, but rather it is being recorded for access later should a need for identification arise). People are likening this move to the "ring of steel" in London, cameras that look something like corporate eye-in-the-sky black balls foisted onto lampposts which gained notoriety after being used to identify the suicide bombers who blew up buses last July. This was an important step in tracing the attacks back to those who aided the terrorists. Let's not kid ourselves either; what's happening in New York is directly related to an international threat and not the police department's concern with everyday crime in crappy neighborhoods.

I don't really know what I am lamenting here, the fact that we are getting closer and closer to a world where nothing is anonymous or the fact that it is a reaction that is going largely unnoticed due to a tangible threat. There is nothing to be done; I'm not even sure I protest the measures being taken as they have the potential to prevent hideous circumstance. However, it is too bad. Tout it all you like, but this isn't Europe, damnit! We aren't supposed to scrutinize every nose-picked and cigarette smoked within a particular block radius. The old "land of the free" line ring a bell?

I have seen a lot of things change here in the past five years including but not limited to the skyline. At times, it is hard to believe this is the same city where I grew up. Though it is certainly a force to be reckoned with still, it feels as though for all its pretention and brimming success, New York is fast becoming a heartless shell where the metrosexual is king.

While Lady Liberty stops to borrow Justice's blindfold for a hanky, let's take a minute and remember the New York of yore, where some folks came to disappear into subway steam and a life lacking recognition.

Sneaking in a Birthday Here and There

2006-05-02T09:28:00.000-04:00

Meet Robin.

Robin is a nice girl who has a lot of stress in her life.

Here she is strolling the beach of the Far Rockaways, a favorite pasttime of hers, an attempt to relax but it's hard to let go of the things one worries about from day to day.

Robin is celebrating a birthday. It's a good thing she took my advice and is wearing a helmet. It might save her scalp a little.

Remember, on your birthday, it's nice to have hair.

Strikes Again

2006-04-17T21:38:00.000-04:00

The past couple of weeks have certainly been odder than most folks. Go ahead, ask me about it. I dare you. I am just itching to talk about some of my crap.

In the meantime, I leave you with this question:

Do I live with a dogge or the real killer in the case against OJ Simpson?

Life Is Hard, Wear A Helmet

2006-04-14T02:45:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, Brother.

2006-04-10T08:30:00.000-04:00

My very first pal, may we live to see the Rancheros de los Perros, where of course the perros des toros will be king.

Sunday Falls Softly Like A Piece Of Paper

2006-04-02T15:38:00.000-04:00

Check out Jihadist Jerry. I stumbled across him and laughed so hard I almost schnarfed my Diet Dr. Pepper.

Thanks Jerry, for a good time.

Now I am off to feel the sun on my bare arm as I drive with the windows all the way down, turn the radio up and smile at firefighters who linger in the open engine co. doorways, airing out the past few months must and sweat and adrenaline.
I'm going to speed a little along Shore Road 'cos it isn't cold anymore, not in the least, and pull my ponytail out. I imagine it's also time to air ourselves in a way. I am thrilled to see crocus and forsythia prodding the world with a little color, the trees are budding, in fact my neighbor's magnolia is almost in full bloom.

I woke up one day and it was spring again. Too good, life is too good.

I should have called them "Thelma & Louise"

2006-04-01T16:00:00.000-05:00

...for surely I am driving my first submissions to an official publication over a cliff to their fiery demise.

So I guess I should start singing something to the effect of "999,999 Letters of Rejection in the Mail." It might serve to keep the spirits up.

Mmm, spirits. That's an idea.

Scratch Card

'I have no chocolate
to give you,' he says as he
offers me his heart

He futzes with my
bra and we fall back laughing,
too young to get it

She's something of a
fraction that has overshot
itself, repeating

Imagining how
he sips her succulence slow,
I smell the flowers

A conspiracy
of silence virtually
erases the fact

Return Trip

Sometimes I wear your socks.
In lieu of you, your socks.
Empty reminders I keep in a drawer.
I want to fill them with feet,
Sometimes.

Sometimes I pretend that we were just socks,
two in a pair,
that got lost on the way to the dryer.

These socks reminisce with me,
whispering of
clumsy late-night love
in a room too small,
in a town too big.

Sometimes your socks speak;
they bring back blisters,
my worn out sneakers skipping over
sidewalk cracks and anthills.

Your socks too thin,
and my heels burning.
I think it’s fitting,
as the sun peeks over apartments and
spies on my clandestine morning stroll.

How I wonder—
will anybody notice
bleary-eyed, tousled me?

Fun for the music nerd who doesn't check in anymore.

2006-03-24T14:34:00.000-05:00

There are supposedly 75 bands represented in the picture. I honestly can't stand to wait until the myspacemen have passed it along, ONE EACH, and come up with all of them. Bah. Test yourself, it's fun. Or don't, in the case of the invisible man.

Hm.

2006-03-20T09:03:00.000-05:00

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind.
You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life.
Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling.
And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Oh, there I am, working hard just to hold up my afro let alone write a prize-winning screenplay.

I might feel better about this quiz result if only the test had actually asked for a sample of my work instead of asking questions like, "What reaction do you like to inspire in people?" Uh... "Awe." Yeah. Who doesn't?

Now, who wants to lend me some money to produce a teeny film?

Grobalization is Good

2006-03-17T12:31:00.000-05:00

I bought a computer desk that is clearly one of the many mass produced cheap pieces of crap we are importing by the ton, literally, from China. I watch the ships roll in and out of New York harbor daily when I take the dog for a walk, all of them loaded with containers, hauling their junk. Sometimes it is like sitting back and watching the country empty its pockets for some skins, or in this case bobble-head dolls or a cheap place to rest my monitor, as if four hundred years later we cannot see any more clearly. Why have we shut down the plants and factories that used to manufacture somewhat quality products? Why is the country littered with delapidated means of production rendering us fat, lazy and unprepared for what our future might bring?

The following one-SIDE of pictures is the entire instruction manual of how to put it together.

And the instructions for loading from the side of the box.

If you happen to be unloading this in the rain, you should probably hold an umbrella over it. Please, no horking it just to make your life easier. Hoist that bad boy! This sike up! And with that, I rest my case.

I'm not going to pull an O'Reilly and suddenly call for a boycott of goods from any one locale, but I think it might help to become a more informed consumer. If companies didn't insist on squeezing out the highest profit margin possible, if there was some semblance of the compassionate corporation that contributes to the community, then perhaps we could strike a balance between competitive pay for workers and well-fed, happy, red-faced tycoons. Right, pinch me. My head must be up my arse.

If only I were king.

Beware the Ides of March... and Friendster

2006-03-15T23:59:00.000-05:00

It goes against my grain to be rude most of the time, but I am getting too old for this. I should know better than to be nice to people, especially on 'ster.

I'm guessing this man is visiting the tenth planet or something but this all started when one "XTH" sent me a message that read, "Does your dog know any tricks?" Suckered into conversation about possibly my favorite thing, I responded amiably.

Hello Unpronounceable Man,

If 'growl at the stranger' and 'chase down the
dog on the block' are considered tricks these
days, then sure, she's accomplished.
:-P
I sell her short actually. She's smart, but
surly. Knows her right from her left. Thank you for
asking. I'm sure you already know, if there's
a subject any pet owner adores, it's their bub.
You wouldn't happen to have any pals, would
you?

- crabby

XTH then writes back.

We all want a storybook romance, but as you
have probably learned by now, too many of these
romance have unhappy ending. TaTa

Say wha?

Who said anything about romance? I was
talking about a dog.

sigh.

And that XTH character again. He's big on the last word.

My words sometime might look like Scrabbler and
my message are sometime passionately admired
by many and dismissed by others. Thanks anyway

I think I got dumped. By a guy who refers to himself as the Scrabbler no less. Perfect if he's a supervillain from the 60s Batman television series. Ker-plunk!

These new lows have been brought to you by the Ides.

Bang My Gong

2006-03-08T10:40:00.002-05:00

For eleven dollars, (less if you buy in bulk!) + shipping and handling you too can be dirty sweet. Strangely, I want it, only I worry I would stay home and gnaw at myself instead of using it for the powers of good.

Wait, what?

Though great in theory, there is nothing practically appealing about this. I mean, think about it objectively. However, it has pushed me toward a search for the Smarties garter belt. Now that'd be hot.

What's This!?

2006-03-06T10:25:00.000-05:00

we are superheroes, toothpaste for dinner

Oh, excuse me. Forgive the interruption. I'm sure you were enjoying the peace and quiet here of late. In fact, I'm sure that's why you find yourself stopping in, day after day as I just know you do, only to find nothing. You secretly love those moments you allow your eyes to glaze over a familiar picture, perhaps some purple text. Ah, sweet vegetation.

Bah, truthfully, I am tut-tutting myself as I sit here apologizing. I am too naughty! I am as bad as a band I once criticized. Do I think I am some kind of somebody who can afford to stall production in such an egregious way? Good heavens, no.

Rest assured I have many lame excuses for my silence none of which I will bore you with. Instead, I return, re-energized after my expedition into the world of the haiku, and prepared to tell you a sum total of absolutely nothing wise. Today at least.

I will suggest however you run along and try the following generator. Sometimes these things are spot on, sometimes not so much. With this one I found myself saying, "Hey, wow! I would drive a Beetle! I totally would fight against the forces of one M. Jackson with my super bankruptcy skills! Power-attache, away!"

Your Superhero Persona by couplandesque
Your Name
Superhero Name	The Bankruptcy Lawyer
Super Power	Can Cry On Command
Enemy	Michael Jackson
Mode Of Transportation	Volkswagen Beetle
Weapon	Sporks

Quiz created with MemeGen!

A Valentine Grows In Brooklyn

2006-02-14T06:21:00.000-05:00

"The wind is the moon's imagination wandering, it seeps through cracks ripples the grass, explores the unknown of this city, my soul is my love's imagination, how much do I love you? imagine.

The End is Here: 77 Abigails Bring Up the Rear

2006-01-30T23:59:00.000-05:00

abigail is a big girl don hoffman todd dakins

You know who you are,
ahem, Don, Todd. You treat her
like a little child.

abigail is now with a foster family

There are people who
want to help. She's living
with two of them now.

abigail is a big girl through the mps library club

I guess sitting and
reading all the time gave her
that gigantic bum.

abigail is now with a foster family someone abandoned abigail behind a raley's grocery store near gerber and power inn roads on tuesday

Does anyone know
who her parents are? They should
be punished for this.

abigail is still impacting people's lives

The times keep changing
and though nothing stays the same,
she's not obsolete.

abigail is madly in love with mark and is desperate to see him again

He won't talk to her;
The temptation is too much
for him to resist.

abigail is very happy to be the communications manager at the international space sciences organization

Proximity to
astronauts is the draw.
Spacesuits turn her on.

abigail is a sweet

The price is high but
what would you do for a taste?
No explanations.

abigail is a lot like the little girl in the movie the bad seed

Misunderstood, she
finds it hard to explain so
she's acting childish.

abigail is speaking to mercy lewis

She's begging the judge
to spare him the worst. Lewis
was once a good boy.

abigail is settling into her foster home pretty well

That's the evil trick;
when she gets comfortable
she will have to go.

abigail is speaking in your area

You may not agree
but she sparks discussion and
philosophy reigns.

abigail is home

Screening her calls and
trying to escape the world,
she's stealing solitude.

abigail is now 6 months old

She's just a baby
now but destined for great things;
remember her name.

abigail is trying to rekindle her romance with david

She's going over
to his place dressed in black lace.
Garters never fail.

abigail is transparent

She says she's happy,
doing well, but her eyes tell
a different story.

abigail is available as a guest speaker to schools

Comes with a briefcase
full of narcotics, always
loses some of them.

abigail is indifferent between a and c and between b and d

A trick question on
the SAT, a tough choice
that has to be made.

abigail is now in the arms of god

Can you believe she
found a guy named "god"? The height
of ridiculousness.

abigail is just as precious as other children and this story is her story and the story of others younger and older than her

It never changes.
We think we're different but
we are all the same.

abigail is a corrupt girl

She'll take anything
you have, work 'til your hands bleed,
and she doesn't care.

abigail is appalled at the idea of making the trip but her family supports samuel's decision
These are the days of
stand-by-your-man. These are the
mute indecisions.

abigail is an experienced designer working with such clients as campbells

Rest assured she'll fit
you right and together you'll
pick the right color.

abigail is the source of evil in the community

Cut out the center
and it will all fall away.
Black hearts bleed out too.

abigail is responsible for betty?s illness

We find the poor girl
unidentifiable.
Whatever happened?

abigail is available in your choice of dress colors

If only you had
thought to ask, she'd have worn the
pistachio too.

abigail is looking for something and someone

I remember warmth
here, though that time has passed and
winter brought the freeze.

abigail is a being

Not much more than blank
amalgamations of
our quilted stories.

abigail is connected to the following things

family friendship
love and loyalty, she holds
imperative truths.

abigail is connected to because

Somewhere beneath our
genetic codes there is a
reason for all this.

abigail is able to spawn strange eggs and instead of eating them

Plans to take over
the world, like a bad creature
feature on TV.

abigail is acknowledged by the bow family to be the long

If you want to hit
your farthest mark, ply her strings.
Your arrows will fly.

abigail is now 5 and is just as hyperactive as ever

I want to show you
my pink car. Look! Look! It's pink!
Can we get ice cream?

abigail is here to help you

Shall we continue
in English? Press 1. Speak to a
human? Say your prayers.

abigail is not pasty

It's porcelain! No
bisque. Fair and soft, it all looks
the same in the dark.

abigail is the eldest of three children

This is the story
of a bossy lady who
couldn't give it up.

abigail is the assistant chair of the insurance group

Great, now she can gouge
us with higher premiums
and poor coverage.

abigail is being considered a witch in the first moments of the story

Truth be told, she's a
witch most of the time, stories
aside, she's nasty!

abigail is epsom's drama queen seventeen

Salty's babydoll
wants a tiara. She wants it now!
How about jewelry!?

abigail is among the great ones in the bible

How do you compare
with an example like this?
Do nothing but fail.

abigail is een veulen van moeder shirley

Het mooie kleine paard
Zij zaleen fijne merrie zijn
Ja van goede aandeel

abigail is a foal of mare shirley

pretty little horse
she'll grow into a fine mare--
she is from good stock.

abigail is attacked by roy meechum

Crazy Roy, and his
old tricks. Watch him run into
his own sharp pitchfork.

abigail is curious about something

If I ask you a
question do you promise to
tell me everything?

abigail is determined to "reinvent" herself during summer camp and become the bold

Tying her tee in
a knot to show her navel,
lip gloss, lollipops.

abigail is underweight which i think is due to so many surgeries

That'll be the day.
In fact I'd pay to see an
underweight version.

abigail is not wearing shoes

Broken glass, ringworm,
dog shit, and gravel; one has
to wonder what's up.

abigail is realizing the difficulty in saying "no" when it comes to occupying her time through activities

It's hard to tell them
you can't be there, it's hard when
they are depending.

abigail is the only character who displays genuine love

Maybe it means she
gets closer but it also
means she's getting hurt.

abigail is a nice girl but she has a secret she will never tell

You know how this life
is; sometimes you just want to
stand up and combust.

abigail is the first woman in the bible to be described as " an intelligent and beautiful woman

Thousands of years and
some things remain the same; she's
still a heartbreaker.

abigail is commissioning a new solo guitar work from pete wyer in 2002

Since winning mega
millions she's become quite a
patron of the arts.

abigail is

A confused bundle
of atoms; a doe-eyed girl
at a constant loss.

abigail is now a teacher at a small children's theater in new york

I guess you can say
this is making it; without
the fame, still the art.

abigail is betrayed by her best friend

After all these years,
and all the talk, how could i
have expected this?

abigail is an associate professor at landmark college where she teaches website design along with introduction to biology

Multitalented
to say the least, the eighteen
year olds stare smitten.

abigail is a guest at hunterswell house

She and Shorty still
have dreams of living in the
English countryside.

abigail is my original creation

It's alive I yelled
and so it was, a dripping
mass of excitement.

abigail is an outstanding album with which king shows that there is certainly life after mercyful fate; extremely well played heavy metal rich of atmosphere

Sometimes the outcome
isn't what we dread, sometimes
life redeems itself.

abigail is fine

Don't ask me again.
Just get down to business.
Enough pleasantries.

abigail is a bit too wan for my tastes

If she holds her arms
at concordant angles you
see every blue vein.

abigail is a graduate of parsons school of design

Here in New York they
teach you to be an arteest.
Watch your back, Warhol.

abigail is beautiful

It emanates from
within, eyes channeling the
light of sacrifice.

abigail is a dare role model

Dare me. Go ahead.
Do you dare me? I'll do it
as long as you dare.

abigail is juni 2000 afgestudeerd in de communicatiewetenschap aan de uva

Het ontvangen van
een grand heeft haar ge maakt een
belangrijke persoon

abigail is just getting hers

Her voice is raised, she
is breathing hard. They're back there
on the pool table.

abigail is a witch

About callousness:
few people can be so cruel;
she is a master.

abigail is utterly disconnected in her new city

I was pretty sure
I shouldn't have left just when
I was at home there.

abigail is not only penniless

The horizon is
clear. There is a certain wealth
in having nothing.

abigail is considered the antagonist in the crucible

In chemistry we
played with the elements and
made things go kaboom.

abigail is a cold

Blood is one of those
funny things, you can never
tell which way it runs.

abigail is delighted when travis transfers to her school

It's not raining on
me today--I'm so going
to hook up with him.

abigail is sleeping

sleepy abigail
pawing at the pillows, turns
her back to the sun.

abigail is now 17 3/4" long

I'm just a test tube
baby. I start out clean each
day. Start fresh and clean.

abigail is adrift

Through the fog, the flash
of a buoy on the sea
of many faces.

abigail is a tourist class

Guidebooks and sweatsocks.
She speaks another language.
Maps and cameras.

abigail is about to lose her home for back taxes and mike feels he should try and help her and her little boy

Every now and then
there is goodness for goodness
sake. Let me help you.

Everything was closed at Coney Island

2006-01-23T04:47:00.000-05:00

Somehow a late Friday night stretched into a very bright, early Saturday morning. We rally against sleep's onslaught. Is there a better time for the beach than winter?

An original, the former Child's Restaurant. And in the background to the right, the lights around Keyspan Park, home of the Brooklyn Cyclones and some vunderbar musical events.

The parachute jump.

Awh yeh. You know how I do.

Uncaptioned.

At his house there is time to dream.

W. 19th and Boardwalk. How this place will fill a few months from now, but today it's just seagulls and sand.

Except the aquarium.

2006-01-23T04:33:00.000-05:00

Where the city meets the sea.

Could there be a cooler job than cleaning the coral?

Chris made special friends with the iguana.

We were lucky enough to get there at feeding, or in this case, inhaling time.

Where else are you going to see a blind walrus getting a bellyrub?

A few hours later on the other side of Brooklyn,

2006-01-23T04:23:00.000-05:00

we came upon someone's old home in a burnt out Friendship truck.

A Tip of the Hat to Substance

2006-01-20T05:30:00.000-05:00

This is why "we" love New York:

Here we go... get up at 6, walk the dogge, work all day, run errandy errands that need to get done, run the dogge at the park down the street, stuff some "dinner" down... you know what I am talking about... some crap like instant microwaveable couscous. Take a shower, be a girl for ten minutes while I play the "What will you wear? Try it all on!" Game, dry my hair, rock the eyeliner, and hit the highway. It's 9:40 by the dashboard clock. At ten I am parked on Ave A off 2nd at a meter that doesn't need to be fed after seven. There are spots everywhere. All the cars have left the borough.

Get there earlier than expected but ended up catching an opener that put the band I originally wanted to see to absolute shame. Shame shame shame on you, Levy for playing for like a half hour. What are we rock stars or something?! Not quite. Just a handful of guys on the Lower East Side playing an eight dolla show, so please, try playing past 11:35. Just try it. You might get people to smile or maybe even rock out. The possibilities are endless.

From there drive on over to Red Hook, see some good people, talk to some new people, dabble in the illicit and roll home well, let's just say, early in the morning. Bad bad bad crabby!

But would you not agree that every now and then, there is something wonderful about driving home as the sun is just peeking up, casting gold aspersions on every brick and pane in its wake? It is a gorgeous thing. If you've never seen it, stay up just ONE night, doofus. Your life will be better for the lapse of respectability.

You know what else I like? I like knowing what streets to drive through to catch the smells of industrial-sized bakeries getting the breads going for the day, or the distinct whiff of coffee.

Actually I should be just as ashamed of my home-ETA (on a WEDNESDAY night!, as one friend commented) as Levy should be of their pathetically short setlist. And now as I think of it, for their sakes, I hope that is not indicative of how they operate in bed.

Moral of the story, every once in a while stay out so late it's early, and go see these guys instead.

One Hundred Thirty-Three Poems about Abby

2006-01-18T09:34:00.001-05:00

abby is aussie mix

She is anthem dub.
Turn her up so you can hear
her audio spikes.

abby is my name

I never liked the
sound of it 'til I heard you
say it low in bed.

abby is sick

She kissed him and he
didn't tell her 'bout his throat.
He just wanted play.

abby is in the scrapbook

Look at that goofy
face she's making! Does she think
we want to see that?

abby is okay column

Strong like Atlas, she'll
make sure things stand as they should.
At least, we hope so.

abby is child of heaven now

That's what the priest said,
but I don't think he realized,
she didn't believe.

abby is bored

How much longer do
you think this will continue?
I am sleepy. Yawn.

abby is home

It's a good place to
be, tucked under the covers,
and in pajamas.

abby is speechless

Tell me you love me
one more time and again I'm
stunned into silence

abby is a very alert baby

Boy, nothing gets by
her. She never closes her
eyes. She doesn't sleep.

abby is aussie mix for adoption happy hills animal foundation

She's very friendly
unless you pull her tail. Then
her bite is vicious.

abby is pro

Amateur no more
she's making the big bucks now.
Up, up, and away!

abby is bright

Have you met her yet?
Shiny and quick, she blinds you.
You need sunglasses.

abby is

Axis x and y,
a single point in so many
million, she's standing.

abby is a brat

Stop your whining. I
told you, we ar enot going
to the toy store now!

abby is a dark tortoiseshell and half her face is black

Supposedly it's
a disease, at least that's what
Michael Jackson said.

abby is ready to face the cold

I have steeled myself
for what will be. Emptiness,
dear. You may go now.

abby is back home now they can relax and smile

Gave us all a scare
when she skipped town to find her
past. They thought the worst.

abby is now 3yrs old and ofa good

She speaks like a small
Italian, even her first
words: Self-a do it!

abby is doing really well after her surgery

That gastric bypass
has worked wonders, eight hundred
pounds and still counting!

abby is doing great

Don't bother calling,
she's moved on. Her new guy is
so satisfying.

abby is a young teenager striving to make things work

It's just like Judy
Blume, where the girl never has
a clue what to do.

abby is announcing today

Get ready. You know
that girl will hog the spotlight
every chance she gets.

abby is my second sheltie

Yet another dog
named "Me." Coincidence or
the world's subtle hints?

abby is a veterinarian radio talk

Lots of talk about
balding cats and biting dogs.
Creepy, crawly things.

abby is new to stoneybrook and she has a twin

You know, I thought it
was the other way around
but no, she's evil.

abby is a 71

Most guys rate them one
to ten, but me? I'm special.
I take it all in.

abby is different from most of my students

She sits in the back,
passes notes and giggles through
lessons. What a pain!

abby is an acknowledged phenomenon of contemporary journalism

They know she can write
and has a strong opinion.
But where is the truth?

abby is an

An... an... an... aardvark!
No, no, that definitely
wasn't right. Damnit!

abby is learning to read

So late in the game,
what a shame. Don't think she is
gonna get too far.

abby is doing very well at our place since day 1

It's weird seeing her
on the couch in the morning,
but she seems happy.

abby is riddled with offensive racial stereotypes

The drunk mick laughs
when the connected gavone
beats the stingy kike.

abby is on the other line

You know how we all
understand reality?
There are more wavelengths.

abby is growing up so fast

She can smoke, drink, and
swear with the worst of them.
Used to be so sweet.

abby is aware of such likely criticism and is at pains to point out she is not fabricating any of her film

It's non-fiction, honest!
How would I ever have staged
a documentary?!

abby is written by abigail van buren

Famous ladies with
my name sort of add to my
life's pressure-cooker.

abby is right there trying to make it better

Less talk, more action.
Have you ever met a more
altruistic girl?

abby is announcing today an internet

Didn't you know this?
Altered communications--
I invented it!

abby is not unattractive

Look, she's no dog, but
think twice before you catch a
glimpse in the morning.

abby is undoubtedly a huge rip off of the block busting exorcist

Please! She floats around
pretending to be possessed.
Pea soup is passe!

abby is a boxer

You must watch out for
Iron Mike and Sudden Death.
She has named her fists.

abby is a sophomore golfer from waterville

Maybe next year she'll
be as brave as Danica
and take on the men.

abby is relentless

Here she goes again,
posting more crap! I thought she
got it -- no one cares!

abby is a 3

Subpar at best, I
think she lacks flavor. Try with
a rich cabernet.

abby is a congo african grey parrot

You idiot! How
much You idiot! for the
You idiot! bird?

abby is an ob nurse at the hospital who works occasional shifts for extra money

It's kind of strange how
her eyes light up at the sight
of the speculum.

abby is in the house and kidnaps a woman from the settlement as an exhange hostage

Whoa, this is not where
we thought she'd end up in life.
Television news.

abby is efficient and thorough

Wielding a red pen,
your paper, a battlefield,
edited to shreds.

abby is walking into the trauma room where natalie is

Maybe I shouldn't
have done it... but... but... she was
gonna steal my man!

abby is here with us

We think anyway.
Sometimes we're not so sure she's
on the same planet.

abby is written up in the book

If I'm not wrong, the
daughter of the innkeeper
who turned them away.

abby is a lesbian

Of course! It all makes
sense now. She never has a
boyfriend and likes sports.

abby is slightly jealous of luka's "new project"

She kind of always
wanted to play Liza to
his Henry Higgins.

abby is active this year and will be successful

A lot better than
last year when she rarely got
herself out of bed.

abby is all wet when it comes to her acceptance of hot tub nudity

Do you even have
to ask? Let's go! Who needs a
suit when it's steamy?!

abby is a fourth generation metalsmith

Said she wanted to
be a doc but her metal-
working father flipped.

abby is the story of a minister's wife possessed by an ancient african demon

A bizarre tale that's
hard to swallow, bad effects,
clunky dialogue.

abby is tending to escape

There isn't a cage
big enough. There is no way
to keep her inside.

abby is on her way home trach free

But without that part
of her throat, she'll have trouble
with certain vowels.

abby is our ball

I don't know why we
named it. It seems a little
weird in retrospect.

abby is an early childhood professional

She knows how to deal
with tiny brats. Says the key
is sending them home.

abby is bi female age 43

Didn't work out too
well, huh? Ya should've picked a
side and stuck with it.

abby is the wonderful novelist ... thomas

Miss Thomas can write
and she had it first. What a waste
of all my glory.

abby is our 10 month old female tabby

She's still a tiny
matey. You don't have to do
much to make her purr.

abby is cared for by her friends and abandoned by her family as she struggles to live with a disease that gradually destroys her fierce quest for independence

It's rotten, this life is.
Falling apart, I'm starting
to see. The misery.

abby is very spoiled by me

Unique baubles that
compliment her eyes, Chinese
silks, violets, French wine.

abby is such a dear

What ever would I do,
how would life continue is
I didn't have her?

abby is a goddess who has chosen to grace this meager planet with her presence

What else must be said?
I've been making this point for
years. Believe me now?

abby is a mature escort with the most fabulous looks and body and is extremely bright

Finally wisened
up to the idea that it's just
a lot of money.

abby is the one on the scale

What's being measured,
her capacity for love
or how quick she cuts?

abby is an extremely sweet 4

Because she has a
nice personality I'm
upping her rating.

abby is many things to many different people

multitasking life
saver, secret bank, safety,
constant, but passing.

abby is our only adult female

We aren't willing
to share. These are hard times and
she is the future.

abby is a very sensual dominatrix

Anything she wants.
On your knees, beneath black boots,
pitiful worship.

abby is an institution here at camp

What will it be like?
No more late night pantry raids, no
snogging by moonlight.

abby is one of society's more subtle victims

Surface so shiny,
tottering along the line.
You would never know.

abby is currently four years old

It won't be long now.
We'll be getting ready to
send her to college.

abby is acting the way she is?

I do not want to
admit how I am just a
slave to biology.

abby is a shining example of how independent bookstores take pride in the recognition of good books and pass that knowledge on to

Eerily true, though
not a store, got lots of reads.
I'll pass books on soon.

abby is home sick with the flu

What a crank when she's
sick! Refuses all help, pulls
the Garbo routine.

abby is frustrated by the predicament of missing out on an opportunity for love

What is there to say?
I cannot win. I will not
try any harder.

abby is also board certified to supervise both professional counselors and social workers in training

That's what's scary! Of
all people, she's in charge of
training counselors?!

abby is a 5'1" brunette

What did they do? Where
did they take the inches from--
legs, neck or torso?

abby is a sweet

How many licks does
it take to find the core of
a tootsie roll girl?

abby is my first show dog

She caused a ruckus,
judge threw her out of the ring.
She's growling at me.

abby is too tough and smart to be shaken

Nails sunk deep in it.
Gripping hands that won't let go.
You are a moot point.

abby is having a shower when she unexpectedly has an orgasm

Walk dog, clean, stock fridge,
oh... my... Oh... God... OH, Yes! Yes!
Lather, rinse, repeat.

abby is a big girl

I remember you
when you rode your dad's shoulders.
Where did the years go?

abby is 10

She knows the answers,
keeps her emotions in check;
the perfect number.

abby is sucked into the cabal

She heard Madonna
did it and like the lemming
she is, fell forward.

abby is cool

So you keep saying,
but I'm not so sure. Why can't
she write some long poems?

abby is a riot'

A catastrophic
overnight sensation, she
caused so much damage.

abby is cool =

The breadth of genius
will not be realized until
long after she's dead.

abby is baptized

Long ago, beyond
memory, I bathed to wash
humanity's sin.

abby is wrong

a conspiracy
of silence virtually
erases the fact

abby is a big girl hi there

Have you seen her ass
lately?! It's HU-- Heyyyy. Oh Gawd.
You think she heard me?

abby is almost out of heat and she will be 6 mo

Look, I only have
so much time. You know about
my randy winters.

abby is sucked into the

Magnificent end,
pulled apart in the rush, this
spinning planet's void.

abby is a probation and parole officer

Butch like Cassidy,
should have been called "Hildy".
Watch the nightstick fall.

abby is a program started by the late ... van buren more commonly known as dear

Four letter words for
things we should have done better.
I miss you so much.

abby

Oh. Say it again.
Whisper it close; remind me
I am everything.

abby is weird

Well d'uh. But isn't
that part of her charm? Perhaps
she is just too young.

abby is looking for her forever home

My heart knows where it
would like to go, but afraid
to stir, I stand still.

abby is precious

Rare imperfections
gleam purple under the moon,
a vivified gem.

abby is too busy to keep her dates with tom

It's hard to see him,
so I make excuses why
I cannot swing by.

abby is a brand

Slowly but ever
so sure, it's taking over.
She's the latest craze.

abby is thrilled

There are so many
things to be grateful for; the
astonishing truth.

abby is sick from linnwood daily

Homeopathic
crap! Dunno why she takes it.
What the hell's Linnwood?

abby is sick post a comment name

Come, you will find the
antidote. The answer to
infection is here.

abby is truly my miracle baby

I didn't know we'd
have another chance to fall.
Should we jump this time?

abby is desolate when her best friend

Doesn't ask her to
be in her wedding? Forgets
they were once sisters?

abby is chair of

Would you like to sit
down? There isn't much room, but
I have lap to spare.

abby is about eight years old and her life lately has been a little rough

Saturday mornings
he still smelled whiskey soaked. I
played sick to stay home.

abby is a graduate of oklahoma state university

Well Hallelujah!
We were worried she was never
going to finish.

abby is bi female

Can't make up her mind.
Has lots of fun with friendster.
Practice makes perfect.

abby is a regular to the lights

There is no darkness.
The neon passes judgment
on our human frames.

abby is only the thirty

Not the thirtieth,
I'm the twenty-ninth. Maybe
too, the thirty-first.

abby is ofa excellent and elbows clear

Big and able, she
sits like Mabel, sure to mind
Betty Etiquette.

abby is a beautiful

What we don't know, but
we like what we see. Something
intangible, free.

abby is beautiful and keeps getting cuter with each picture

She took pictures? I
mean... pictures?! Is this the same
girl we used to know?

abby is sure there is more to todd's death than meets the eye

A pool of water,
a broken glass, two odd shoes,
phone unplugged, no note.

abby is announcing today an internet partnership with the lifelines services

One of those things where
the person says, I've fallen
and I can't get up.

abby is available at http

It's some club on the
lower east side. I saw her
name in the bathroom.

abby is also involved when his nephew harold is interested in olivia

Meddling in other
people's affairs offers him
the greatest pleasure.

abby is a single parent

The struggle is the
glory. That is what they keep
repeating in group.

abby is disappointed when her guests fail to arrive

Another birthday
where my pals did it again.
Thanks a lot, people.

abby is michaela

So, are they going
to write her out of the script?
The plot is just bizarre.

abby is as considerate as she is naturally tan

I wonder if I
should mention I'm the color
of winter snowfall.

abby is a very intelligent

turbo charged hyper
driving fast calculating
super computer

abby is possessed

Woman of principle
she'll finish this exercise
though it might kill her.

abby is the most widely syndicated columnist in the world

Towards what dreams should
we aspire? To succeed, to
love, to write, to change?

abby is happier than ever

Opportunity
is knocking. I am ready
to answer the door.

Monica Keena Gets Fugged

2006-01-17T08:11:00.000-05:00

Thanks Pasc for passing this along from some of the best of the bad at Go Fug Yourself. This is what they had to say:

Monica Keena bought this for her Skating With Celebrities audition,
but that didn't pan out, so she repurposed it. And, sure, her chest looks very perky-if-pancaked, but the rest is just so very Laura Ingalls Wilder in Little Salchow On The Prairie.

In seventh grade the chorus I was in went on a trip to Marblehead, MA to sing at another school with another group of kids and see some sights in Boston, etc. Monica and I ended up being assigned to live at the same girl's house. I think her name was Jennifer but I can't remember now. I do remember that she had a distinct affinity for Axl Rose, particularly how his spandex pants stretched over, well, you get the picture.

The first time she left us alone in the room, Monica and I looked at each other, like... uh, is she for real? We were from a world where boys were still just cute and you were sorta shy about playing games like Spin the Bottle, not where you looked at a bulge first and had a cigarette later.

She said, "I'm glad I didn't have to come here alone."

I know what you mean.

We weren't really friends, before or after the trip. Just then, it was cool having her around. And to be honest, though sometimes it is really hard to watch people of your own age becoming super successful, I kinda secretly always enjoy watching her performances when I can catch them. It escorts me ever so slightly to the days of bad middle school productions, and I love that sort of thing.

All that aside, what was she thinking with that outfit? And um, my goodness, the two emergency floatation devices she had installed?

It's Coming Down

2006-01-13T12:29:00.000-05:00

Though many a late November walking home from the train station in the wee hours, I have caught the city putting up the holiday decorations, I never once saw them come down. Somehow it made me feel better to see it. They didn't just disappear one day, as usual. So, happy end of holidays.

Oh and check the old school soda shoppe sign a couple stores away from a Burger King. Oh yeah. This is where I'm from.

(This is when she was) Barely Legal

2006-01-12T19:11:00.000-05:00

An old picture for an old friend; a girl lucky enough to have theme songs by both the Beatles and GN'R.

Happy Birthday, Michelle. We dreamed lots in high school under perfect skies. Here's hoping the next blankety-blank (a girl never tells her age) years start to see the pay-out for all the effort you've put into making yours happen. You are a super-hero!

It's Catching!

2006-01-11T19:27:00.000-05:00

Martin has googlized himself.

So too has Kiri.

If you are enjoying this at all, I highly recommend moseying on over to their sites and checking it out. They both know how to wield a pen under pressure.

A Breather

2006-01-09T16:48:00.000-05:00

So my crabbyku are complete, and from here, we will move on to my REAL name, but this time, I promise not to spam my site with numerous three-line poems. I'll save em up and post 'em together this time, or at least in chunks of fifty or something. We'll see about that soonly.

Anyway, let's break up the monotony a little, shall we? Yes, sounds like a plan.

Well... for all you webby people out there who are just so hip that it hurts, you should prolly check this out. Funny, sure, but what is humor without a grain of truth?

So, I'm kind of wondering after reading that, what does my picture say about me?

Eep!

Crabbyku

2006-01-08T06:11:00.001-05:00

crabby is not a lawyer and does not give legal advice

Not very helpful
with legal matters, is she?
Call that Bruce Davis.

crabby is not going to answer this right now

I am feeling a
bit petulant. I don't want
to. I simply won't.

crabby is as crabby does

Tough to reconcile,
the girl is good and bad and
everything at once.

crabby is in the market for a pair of pearl earbobs and a cameo brooch

They remind her of
a book, rare and black. Men have
died for love of these.

crabby is designed for five third

she's something of a
fraction that has overshot
itself, repeating

crabby is a sweetheart and loves to hug all the girls and make lots of friends

Watch out for crabby.
She likes to paw at all the
pretty ones. Grabby?!

crabby is that it keeps you where you are

sometimes it's hard to
breathe here in this stagnant place
how can i get out?

crabby is cody done for his career? what do our recruits think?

They are waiting like
vultures to take cody's place.
Conniving bastards!

crabby is concerned that her farm will be overrun by chicks if the eggs that the hen keeps laying should all hatch

Bogus claims about
multitudinous chickens.
Really just hungry.

crabby is the answer

Like a Jeopardy
question, read backwards, she will
find ways to fix you.

crabby is a red crab who lives in a small room nearby to maria's

Psst. That odd little
crab who doesn't speak much...? I
wonder if she bites.

crabby is run entirely by suggestion box

Don't bother writing;
we aren't going to change.
We are not amused.

crabby is the lsecond and she knows where all the can openers are

You should invite her.
She'll open all our liquor.
Plus, I hear she's fast.

crabby is because I miss you and the way things were

I exist only
to remember how it felt
when you were closer.

crabby is only $6

Man, that girl ought to
raise her going rate. It's a
damn shame she's so cheap.

crabby is back

Look at all of this!
I am back. With a vengeance,
crabby is posting.

crabby is acceptable; swearing at your parents

Rude and improper,
we let her get away with
it, though Mom is mad.

crabby is copyright 2002 by manuel revilla

it is odd when you
can trace the years back so far
and still feel so young

crabby is on his honeymoon in september i will be on mental vacation as well

imagining how
he sips her succulence slow
i smell the flowers

crabby is not going to sell easy

They won't go for it.
They want something different, more.
They won't go for me.

crabby is made to hold a pair of drumsticks as shown below

Sitting with fists full
of turkey, this kid looks like
a Butterball ad.

crabby is equipt with all of your fishing and safety needs

Hooks, bait, lures and nets;
you are bothered by the fact
you can't stop dreaming.

crabby is the first of the rivers ginger boys

They were a rowdy
crew, that gang of ruffians,
the worst that crabby.

crabby is one of those pokemon no one really would think is strong but ends up being very strong

scary children scream
for the supercrabby cards
and collectibles

crabby is alive

Fizzz, I can feel it.
It is bubbly all over.
Effervescent pop!

crabby is how cat felt ever since menopause finally hit

The little tabby
is crabby now that her days
of kittens are done.

crabby is very smart

It sneaks up on you,
who won't see it coming. Keep
smiling, you smug fuck.

crabby is a 9 3/4" white bear with black

Look, it's on a site:
a bear for sale for small kids
to hug close at night.

crabby is the robot we built for the mit 6

It launches rockets
and destroys the enemy.
It can brush your teeth.

crabby is playing the rhythm guitar in ratt? isn't he above that? 8

what a poser that
crabby, holding the guitar
all wrong, pretending

crabby is sober at least

At least she's standing;
not like last time when she drank
so much she threw up.

crabby is johnny

Oh my heavens! I
guess she went ahead and had
the operation.

crabby is an old magical monkey

Doesn't bang cymbals,
but she'll make three things come true.
What do you wish for?

crabby is when the dishes are being washed

Keeps complaining of
hands cracked and dry. Maybe she
should try Palmolive.

crabby is a little over one year old diet

And what a trip it's
been with the attitude from
all the empty pangs.

crabby is making daddy run around in circles

did i make you proud
turning into everything
you were that was wrong?

crabby is a good thing catching crab is one thing

I don't know what your
issues with insects are; she's
just good in the sack.

crabby is published for entertainment and informational purposes

There are things here you
can use. There are also things
here that make no sense.

crabby is a syndicated advice columnist known the world over for her advice and nurturing support of those in need

They say she's good to
talk to. I never agreed.
She knows everything.

crabby is getting around

she has been catching
time kissing boys behind
dark city spaces

crabby is funny but not tasty like cheese products

You might get a laugh,
but don't try; she's not creamy,
as you might believe.

crabby is to take her off the stuff

boy don't come around
here in february, i'll
be spitting thumbtacks

crabby is how my sunday began and ended

I woke up surprised
for there she was, sleeping. I
hope she stays the night.

crabby is hand

You don't understand
how she changes your mind, but
you take it gladly.

crabby is not amused at mam "new work miami" with frank benson and robert chambers brings out necee regis' evil twin

What ridiculous
plot twists they're writing these days.
Nothing of substance!

crabby is not being able to say so

It is frustration.
It is quietude times ten.
It's why we don't work.

crabby is not amused at mam

With pretention she
demands to be called madam.
Oh, the airs of them.

crabby is a good thing at both dick and harry's and coast 92

you can take her to
the dingiest bars and she'll
fit like a clock spring

crabby is one of those folk who go down to london for a week's holiday

Please! She talks about
working hard, but I know she
travels constantly!

crabby is because they had a rotten life and

It's been tough on them
but all the same I wish they
finished sentences.

crabby is a good word for it

never stops cranking
the kibitizing becomes an
endless wall of sound

crabby is making me

a tough cookie who
won't take no, she is sending
me on a mission

crabby is that i'm registering lower levels of nicotine in my system

This keeps coming up.
I am getting a bit scared.
Am I strong enough?

crabby is copyright himself

she's a stickler for
originality, a
sucker for green eyes.

crabby is no longer indispensable with the addition of cordero

leaning over the
rack her sweat glistens and i
find myself captured

crabby is when you suffer through another saints loss

In New Orleans the
men learned that there are worse things
than your team losing.

crabby is so understandable with what you're dealing with

Don't be frightened. You
are safe here, in her softness--
warm, wet, welcoming.

crabby is

Have you pinned her down?
Wrestling with experience,
one can only hope.

crabby is rescued from a miserable environment

Say a tiny prayer
that it will be better soon.
I'm so very tired.

crabby is because they had a rotten life and it

There they go again,
leaving questions unanswered.
Who's responsible?

crabby is probably used to hanging out with

What does she see in
that waste of oxygen? Some
habits should be dropped.

crabby is getting used to all of us

I know it doesn't
seem like it now, but she's cool.
Give her a minute.

crabby is white with red

Alabaster crab
condemned by passing shades from
every naughty thought.

The Great Googlism Haiku Caper

2006-01-06T06:36:00.000-05:00

I'm challenging you
to write some haiku. What does
the web say of you?

There is a site called
googlism. Amusing
use of your own name.

Go there and see, what
you are or might be. Write a
haiku for each one!

I will get started; you'll
see what I mean. Once for
crabby, once for real.

If you can finish
before me, I'll find a way
to make you happy.

So post your ku, and
tell me too! I would love to
get juices running.

And not to worry,
your haiku don't need to rhyme,
though mine sometimes do.

Go HERE and get started.

Happy New You.

2006-01-04T08:21:00.000-05:00

Okay, who's done it already? Who's gone and made a resolution they've already broken?

Not me this year. Not yet anyway. I didn't set any dates I wasn't ready for. In fact, I barely stopped to think about the things I'd like to change in the coming 12 months.

The only thing I did promise myself was Feb 7th. It's a sort of very (un)merry(!) unbirthday present to me (to me, ugh).

Beyond that, I have been thinking about ways to update my look. Perhaps I will do some dental work.

Or maybe get a haircut.

Maybe some red lipstick...

and maybe not.

Perhaps I'll find a new religion.

Oh alright I'll get serious for a second. I did get this for Christmas, and I am hoping that it helps with the other thing, by taking up some time and reminding me of why lung capacity is nice. Anyone got great ideas on how to successfully effect a life-altering change? I for one am at a loss. Here's hoping a spot of mulishness helps keep me on track, 'cos this is the last time I quit. It's either this or it kills me.

The Tale of Tom Kitten, revised.

2005-12-24T01:42:00.000-05:00

I first met Tom with his two littermates in my backyard in early November. He was standing over a dead pigeon his mother, a pretty but too thin black cat I have yet to name, clearly had killed and brought to her kits. It appeared to be their first time tearing into fresh meat, the warm blood running down their chins, and their eyes wild with the flavor of animal. I stepped closer to where they were, in a protected corner thicket, sending the two girls skittering. But Tom remained, chewing away. I took a couple more steps and was close enough to touch him, my eyes on his mom, a scant two feet away, staring at me with a ferocity of intent. He suddenly was aware of me standing over him, and jerked to attention. He hissed, and covered with blood, looked plenty scary. Later when I recounted the experience to a friend, I referred to him as a werekitten.

A few days later I spotted the three hopping around the yard in the unseasonally warm sun. I laid out a plate of food and tried to see how close I could get to them while they ate. Again the girls ran before I was close enough to touch them, but Tom, little big man that he was, stayed at that plate and did his best to intimidate me, all one pound of him, bristling and hissing and attempting to chase me off long enough to eat his fill. I admit, he staved me off a bit too. Small though they may be, a kitten has a fine bite when he wants to. I should know.

I set up a dog kennel and the two girls tumbled into it as soon as I was out of sight, some kitten food too much of a temptation. Tom on the other hand proved a more difficult catch. I watched him tentatively for hours, hoping he wouldn't disappear for too long. When I thought he might be a bit hungry again I got a plate of tuna with bits of cheese, and left it in my dog's old training crate in the driveway at the back of my house. I hid on the other side of the car and eventually he bit. I was able to stealthily lean over the hood of the Honda and use a rake to shut the door on him. He jumped and looked at me accusingly. More hissing ensued. I figured I better nip this one in the bud quick, but careful... real careful. I crawled into the crate slowly and extended a gloved hand. Backing into a corner, Tom bristled and arched. I got brave and touched him anyway. "Here we go," I thought. Rubbing his neck, he suddenly turned to mush. Of course... fleas! Lots of them. But boy did that work in my favor. The lovely scratching turned out to be the key to poor Tom's heart, and I suddenly had a new best friend.

Of this litter of three I took in, Tom is the only one who didn't look back. He was scrawny, growing much more quickly than his sisters, and not eating enough to fill out his expanding frame. He had a respiratory infection that had rendered him more susceptible to flea and lice infestation. Another month or two on the street and Tom wouldn't have made it. Thing is, I think he knew that too. From the very first rub, to the moment I put him in the arms of his new owner, that cat was more affectionate to me than any animal has ever been. He never once tried to run from me, and from the very first, he wanted nothing more than to be everywhere I was. He was something of a puppy actually. And at the risk of being sentimental and perhaps revealing a softer side, I will never forget his face as he sat in the car leaving what had become his very happy home with me. Quizzical and a little sad I think. I know I was.

Yes I am inspired by the facts of the matter. Yes, I saved his little life. Whoopee. If I hadn't, as a sentient adult observing the reality of the urban feral problem, what would that make me? Fucking rotten, that's what. But I digress. Point is, I get the whole feel-good la-di-da of what I do with the strays in my pocket of New York, and of course I am not going to stop.

Damned if it isn't hard as diamonds to do sometimes.

Odd Men Out

2005-12-23T00:30:00.000-05:00

It is eight o'clock.
I just drank my second cup.
I'll be up all night.

Seashells from Coney
Island and two tiny bits
of turquoise dangle.

Loofahs, pumice and
peppermint foot scrub laugh at
gender denial.

In the cold I tongue

at the taste of vanilla

a soft sheen on lips

For the best grilled cheese,
buttery sammich elite:
a Brooklyn diner.

What kind of love is
a dogge? A warm, wet love--
the best kind of friend.

Does anyone hear?
Her pixellated pop sings!
An echo, a swan.

He gave me a poem

for my birthday and I cried

in a public place

I am a grandma.
At night I squint at word games.
What's fourteen across?

Love & Chocolate

2005-12-23T00:22:00.000-05:00

I am down with love.
I am a down-with-love girl.
Give me some chocolate.

"I have no chocolate
to give you," he says as he
offers me his heart.

Jeans & Sneakers

2005-12-23T00:18:00.001-05:00

For years they wore like
a warm denim skin, until
they split at the seams.

As everything will,
my favorite jeans went kaput.
I need a new love.

I used to like shoes
that were sexy. Now give me
sneaks or give me death.

Fast across pavement
green sneakers steal home, rubber
soles tap tap tapping

Smoking (Gun)

2005-12-23T00:17:00.000-05:00

My lungs look like an
order of cajun chicken,
but I love it so.

I know I must quit.
After almost ten years, the
affair is over.

McTufferton the Lion

2005-12-23T00:12:00.000-05:00

I am a toughy!
Watch your step with me, buster.
I'll kick your butt. Hey!

I am too quiet.
You can do the talking. I
am not a leo.

What happens when the
roar is just a ranr? I am
a tiny leo.

"gr!" a small lion
says when she can't get her way.
Just a small lion.

Not-so-secret place by the river

2005-12-23T00:05:00.000-05:00

Midtown overlook
lighting east river crossing;
N. 7th and Kent.

"Will I be shot here?"
my friends ask when I take them;
N. 7th and Kent.

Walk to the river,
see the city-fantastik;
N. 7th and Kent.

I come here to see
what we are capable of;
N. 7th and Kent.

Love Revisited

2005-12-22T23:56:00.000-05:00

I was nerdy then.
You are silly for thinking
I was kind of cute.

Playing a new game
I beat him fair and square. The
next day, I bought it.

My good friends will know
and those who don't, will get it
easily enough.

For a long time I
resisted, but he was right.
Short hair is better.

A Friend

2005-12-22T23:52:00.000-05:00

When I first met her
drugs from the knee surgery
rendered her loopy.

We were kids when we
met, today I look at her--
amazing woman!

The girl does it all!
Frequently, her shoes and bags
match. I am in awe.

Point of Order

2005-12-22T23:35:00.000-05:00

Good girls haiku too.
I present these so you see.
I haiku, do you?

I am really just
bashful, my face turning red
at the thought of it.

Two-in-One

2005-12-19T01:24:00.000-05:00

A friend requested, no, dared me to post some "BS poetry" as he called it. A comment from an unexpected reader asked for more about the bad Crabby. Well... let's combine the two, shall we?

Here you will find a whole lot of dirty haiku -- because still another friend got me started on a kick of thinking of things in a certain syllabic pattern, and now I am a machine. Here is a taste.

Disclaimer Haiku:

A lot of my stuff
I can't post because it is
quite over-the-top!

Forgive me if I offend:

I hate to create
meaning where there is none but
strange how snug we fit.

There is no hiding
in your room, with 'the clapper'.
Lighted, I am shy.

I touched him even
when I wasn't supposed to.
Hard, he felt like math.

Evil, when love in
a perfect package finds you,
and it's still taboo.

We meet on the phone,
under the covers, dark words,
whispers, human faults.

your eyes bulging serve
to make me so wet when i
peek up as i eat

It's hard to forget
my oral fixation when
you look like candy.

Bringing out the girl
in me, you make me want to
take. Bend me over.

Remember to clench
your teeth and swallow when it
hurts. You can't make me.

He wants to cuddle
in the backseat. It is warm
and unexpected.

He futzes with my
bra and we fall back laughing.
Too young to get it.

Where did the days of
hand-holding go? Lately, it's
two dates and a f*ck.

Long time since I met
a guy who wanted to take
me someplace but bed.

Under, over, from
behind, I can't get your d*ck
far out of my mind.

I reach into my
pants to remember you. The
electric is off.

Ritabelle, (Barely Legal!)

2005-12-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

Since we were friends long before the advent of the digi-cam, Rita, you get a collage.

Happy Birthday to a DEAR friend.

I am not a blogger.

2005-12-16T23:38:00.000-05:00

Just because I have climbed on to the self-importance train and starting dropping words here every now and then doesn't make me anything I can quite label just yet. I am certainly not a blogger. Maybe someday this status will change, but right now I feel clarifications are in order.

A friend was making fun of my misuse of the word "blogroll". He says it's blogspeak for a list of links. Hey, that's cool. I made up a word that already existed. You see, I didn't know there was such a word, and when I "invented" it again, I sort of intended it to be a throwback to elementary days. Days when our teachers took roll and you'd raise your hand or say here, or as was more my speed, race down the hall a couple minutes late hoping you got there before she'd sent the attendance list to the office. I used it earlier, and intend on continuing to use it as a description of my birthday series. Those who know me know I like to make up words at will, and when the applicability strikes, I use them. So, I am not a blogger. I simply don't think I need to color within the lines of the dictionary.

When I thought about it further too, I realized I patently disagree with the friend who thinks that my use is all wrong even in the traditional sense. My blogroll is, or will be a collection of links, unclickable perhaps, but points that punctuate the very heart of my story.

One Cat Down

2005-12-07T13:25:00.000-05:00

Some of you will remember this smushy from an earlier post. Hooray! She is the first to be officially adopted.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me My Font Was Funky?

2005-12-07T09:45:00.000-05:00

I am finally back behind the helm of my beasty pc, after a long stint of working with a laptop that is incapable of resolution beyond 800 x 600 (go ahead, laugh). I bit the bullet and paid to have the OS reinstalled after letting people attempt to fix the original problem and only making it worse.

Anyway, I noticed right away the font color I was using is pretty damn dark on the background! And no one shared! Maybe that's because you couldn't read diddly? More likely because nobody's reading. And the two people who do check back here from time to time, well they're too nice to tell me, I know that.

So, we'll work on that over here in the next day or two. I mean, I love purple and all, but I can compromise. See?

Barely Legal: Due To Some Technical Difficulties But With Sincere Apologies, A Belated Birthday Blogroll

2005-12-03T23:36:00.000-05:00

Superhero or sex symbol? Man or machine? There is no telling with Mighty Matt, but that doesn't stop us here on the Isla de los Malhumorados from stopping to wish him a very Happy Birsday and all the best for another exciting 65 years! You don't look a day over 29, kid. It's the Pearl Cream, isn't it?!

On A Lighter Note

2005-12-02T13:43:00.000-05:00

I know what I am doing for my next birthday. This place looks awesome.

Take Another Step And Your Life Won't Be Worth Sh*t

2005-12-02T12:23:00.000-05:00

Once again the press has brought the issue of capital punishment under their unforgiving microscope. This is a topic I could discuss at length but I will save that for another night when I really want to cause a little uproar. Right now I wanted to keep my comment simple.

I often hear arguments against the death penalty that seem to react to the idea that it is an unfair sentence imposed by the government, or perhaps more ominously, the State. I felt I had to post this article which exemplifies to me the fact that seems to be missing in the debate a lot of the time. It isn't the institution but rather 'We the People' who make these decisions.

I believe that if the people of some states want to take a strong stand against particularly violent acts and individuals, then they should be allowed to draw a line in the sand and make examples out of those who so egregiously disregard the lives of others. Nobody wins in the face of such ugliness, but somewhere along the way you can make a point.

Barely Legal

2005-11-28T16:47:00.000-05:00

After her cameo on this blog, and the stir it caused for pickle fans everywhere, I thought it only fitting to honor our girl's special day. Gather round and wish the ever sexy, always spontaneous (unless we ask her to leave her 10 block radius, hee) Enid, a very Happy Birthday! Many more, happy and healthy, baby.

Just In Time For The Fix'uns.

2005-11-23T22:47:00.000-05:00

Here's a list of 10 Turkeys I am thankful I don't have to eat with tomorrow, and you should be too.

1. Cork the wine kiddies, it's Nick Nolte.
2. Everyone dreads their Aunt Babs.
3. Always personality-rich, Mayor Bloomberg.
4. Then, there's always this guy.
5. When in doubt, Jacko, (it's you baby).
6. Oh, oh, Oh-prah.
7. The Lucky Seven Combination Platter: Tom Cruise & Katie Holmes.
8. Eek, Mariah!
9. Please, no carving knives around The Juice.
10. That Hilton girl. Good G-d, thank You.

City In Motion

2005-11-22T18:31:00.000-05:00

Behind the dashboard
the city blurs past

a pack of wild bulldogges,
a mailbox with my initials.

What Christmas Dreams Are Made Of

2005-11-20T04:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I know what's topping my list for Santa this year. As a matter of fact, I think all across America, little girls are going to bed hoping that this fantastic new Barbie finds her way into their stockings.

Now, I'm sure I'll be accused of being politically incorrect, but really, this Barbie is kind of scary when we look at her closely. She has a beautiful face, though she's made to look as if you could scrape her make-up off with a butter knife. Please, Mattel, for the love of Bensonhurst, release some natural looking head molds. I for one would love to see CliniqueBarbie who strives to look neutral and dewy, instead of the usual metallic, 70s-esque eye-makeup they love to cake on Doctor and even Astronaut Barbie. Seriously, do we need to be glamorous on the moon, or in a space station where the gender ratio is like 11:1, male? On the whole, the company is giving way too many girls the wrong impression of what it means to look good, and when they grow up, it just isn't pretty.

Getting back on track however, it's not the make-up or even the mesh shirt (that I thought went out of style around the time The Hellfire moved out of the Meat-Packing District) that makes this doll so frightening. What really makes my mouth gape is the "show-stopping headpiece" as they refer to it. I say, it's a bird cage. They turned her braids into a bird cage. How completely unsanitary and off the wall. Who walks around with a bird in her hair, besides that lunatic bus driver on South Park? Who would want to?

Barbie, what have you been smoking lately? First the questionable breakup with Ken, and now your African counterpart keeps birds in her hair. Honey, I think your stylists might be flying over their own proverbial cuckoos' nests.

Best. Stuffing. Ever.

2005-11-19T08:35:00.000-05:00

Part of my plan for this space is to share a must-try recipe for the culinarily inclined every so often. It's no secret that I love to cook, and though I have an affinity for dessert, I am an equal opportunity Epicurean.

A good friend asked me for this recipe, just in time for the Foodie's Delight of a holiday coming up. I'll try to make it in the next couple of days and update this post with a picture, since my prescribed times and amounts for this one are sort of subjective. It would be nice if I had an image of the finished product. This is such an old recipe, and one that I learned around age seven, so when I sat down to think concretely about what I actually add or for how long something is cooked, I had a hard time figuring it out. That's what makes this stuffing fun, though, it is pretty homestyle in that it is something that doesn't require precise measurement; you just have to eyeball it, and taste frequently. That helps too.

What makes it so fabulous, you are probably wondering. For starters, this recipe got passed down by word of mouth through the women in my family, literally over generations. I am sometimes awed by the fact that I am making a dish that my great-grandmother, whom I never knew, found herself making over a hundred years ago in a kitchen in Redhook. Otherwise, I have to note how few stuffing recipes there are that are showstoppers without overpowering the turkey. Call me old-fashioned but I was never one for sausage or alternative meats in my stuffing, and I think fruit belongs in the pies coming up after dinner.

Without further ado I give you the recipe for simply the Best Stuffing Ever.

2 - Two lb. loaves of white bread, Arnold Brick Oven Style works best
1 lb. butter (yes, four sticks!)
1 bunch celery, washed , chopped
1 large can walnuts, chopped
Poultry Seasoning
Chicken Boullion cubes

The night before you cook the stuffing, break up bread into very small pieces, and place them in a large kettle. Do not cube them with a knife, as this tends to give the dish the appearance of a bowl of soggy croutons. It is tedious, but a couple pieces at a time, pared down manually is the way Gramma used to do it, and who am I to buck tradition? Actually my attempts to fast-track around this part of the recipe actually made a subpar stuffing. Honest.

Shake poultry seasoning liberally over bread pieces, and mix, old-world style with your hands to evenly coat everything as much as possible. Add walnuts (traditional recipe and highly recommended), or for the anti-nut, don't. Set the kettle aside with a thin, clean cotton towel, or some cheesecloth over it. You don't want to seal that stuff with anything that moisture can't pass through; otherwise, again, in the end, soggy stuffing. No good.

So here's the fun part. This is where the kitchen starts smelling like Turkey Day, and it's not even Thursday yet! Put all that butter into a fairly large saucepan, and kick the heat up to about medium or so. Into that melting butter, throw the celery, and stir until everything is coated and on its way to a nice simmer. Cover, and reduce heat slightly. Cook the celery until it is reduced and soft, about 20-25 minutes. Good way to tell is spear a piece with a fork; better way to tell is try a piece. It's so wrong, but tastes so ... oh.

When that's done, you want to spoon it over the bread, stirring often with a large spoon. The idea is coat the bread as much and as evenly as possible. When that's done, it is highly unlikely that the stuffing will be moist enough to bake, so you want to make some dilute boullion (so the salty, chock-full-of-preservative flavor doesn't overpower an otherwise subtle dish), and again spoon over slowly, moistening bread chunks without causing them to meld together. Ultimately this is the secret of the stuffing's presentation. It is flaky and chunky, not a mushy conglomerate lump of bread, which is imperative to the dish's success.

When you are satisfied that everything is properly seasoned, cover tightly, clear a space in the fridge for the kettle, (or if it doesn't fit, a room that remains cool, i.e. a basement or vestibule, just make sure it is properly sealed!), and allow to sit overnight. The next afternoon, kick the oven up to about 350, and bake stuffing in covered casserole dishes, for a good hour on the middle rack. Check the top of the stuffing from time to time -- ultimately your cooking time depends on how dark and crispy you like the finished product.

You could also in theory use this to stuff the bird, however I recommend for best taste and consistency that it cooks on its own. I recommend filling the turkey's cavity with things like whole buttered onions, carrots, celery, Campari tomatoes and fresh herbs; this not only lends a good amount of flavorful liquid to the turkey's baste, the veggies taste ridiculously good when its done.

There isn't much else to say except perhaps, enjoy.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know

2005-11-17T10:46:00.000-05:00

You Are a Normal Girl

You are 40% Good and 60% Bad
Sure you've pulled some bad girl stunts in your past.
But these days, you're (mostly) a good girl.

So it's official, huh? Normal, eech. Bad girl stunts in my past... hmmm. Yes, past. That's it.

And in case you might be wondering: Are You a Good Girl or a Bad Girl?

Holstein Parade

2005-11-15T08:21:00.000-05:00

I was walking my dog through the park when a cow crossed our path.

Have a Hypocrite For Lunch

2005-11-14T16:02:00.000-05:00

It was brought to my attention that the ACLU, the organization that is currently suing the government with the claim that the recent bag searches on the NYC subway are unconstitutional, doesn't seem to think that what's good for the goose is in fact good for the gander.

At their New York offices, don't expect to get inside without having your stuff inspected. How funny.

An Historic (Silver) Herring Swims Upstream

2005-11-14T13:56:00.001-05:00

Because this won't be widely reported outside the city I have to mention this.

I know, it's just a fish market, and not someplace I shopped too often even. But I will miss the smell of that building so curiously placed on the waterfront, by a recreational pier, and right at the spot where you rise up onto the FDR, only to be met with the whiff of fresh mackerel in the morning. Coming out of the Battery tunnel, the smell meant adventure in Manhattan, the big city. Alternatively, driving towards it, the smell had that good feeling associated with coming home... soon.

Maybe it's just me, but I will miss the summer nights on the seaport, weaving in and out of milling people, watching magic tricks and human statues, miscreants, oddities, lights spinning off glass windows and water, ice cream and fish curiously mixing in my mouth and somehow making sense.

The move of the Fulton Fish Market makes me sad as it reminds me that in this city, if you live here long enough, everything changes.

An Update: I missed this on Saturday. Apparently I am not alone in the nostalgia. Also, the photo is courtesy of Martin Fuchs. See more of his series on the fish market here.

Why I'll Never Really Get Modern Art

2005-11-14T09:00:00.000-05:00

This is one of those things I meant to post a while ago. This past October I took a lazy Sunday stroll through the streets of Dumbo, for the Arts Under the Bridge Festival. I genuinely enjoy viewing the product of people's creative impulses and living in New York makes this a ridiculously easy free pursuit. This year, the weekend of Oct 15th & 16th, they opened up a lot of galleries, and artists worked on outdoor installations and virtually the whole neighborhood, a charming pocket (despite its being impossibly hip), was a museum.

That said, I walked through the parks under the bridges there on the banks of the East River, and came to this, a picket fence made of plastic-wrapped paper towels. Yes, a paper towel picket fence. Fascinating.

And what was this breath-stealing tour de force held up by bedposts of odd length standing in protection of? Ah, well, multi colored transparent plexiglass rectangles on sticks of course! Maybe I am ever so plebian, but maybe some of the material touted as "art" these days is just a load of crap too.

All told, a really nice exhibition of visuals at every corner, the moon had a particularly stunning rise and it was a gorgeous fall day well spent. But I submit for your approval why modern art will never completely make sense to me.

Pickle Things

2005-11-13T03:13:00.000-05:00

Enid (that's Uh-Need) says, "Tickle my pickle."

My Butt Deserves Its Own Blog Entry, No?

2005-11-11T03:06:00.000-05:00

The demise of a favorite pair... I miss them already. Denim shopping anyone?

Death by...

2005-11-10T09:43:00.000-05:00

I look forward to this every year, and voila, I get sick just in time for the 8th annual Chocolate Show. Perhaps somebody out there will go... and bring me back the chocolate corset. I'll be back to naughty again in no time.

Calling the Hollywood Elite

2005-11-09T23:43:00.000-05:00

Well I think I just may have stumbled upon THE weight loss fad of the coming year. 10 Pounds in 3, yes you heard me THREE days, courtesy of the Streptococcus Diet. Gotta lose weight for your next big role? Have a dangerously obese cousin? Quick, give me a call... one wet kiss and they won't be able to swallow a cup of tea, let alone anything with substance, be it from the 21 Club or McD's. Look out world, I am so onto something.

Looking For GOOD Homes For My Three Latest Charges

2005-11-07T13:39:00.000-05:00

One of the things that redeems me in life are my attempts to rescue strays and help out with local TNR efforts. Here are three new friends I picked up in my backyard two days ago, affectionately known as Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail after Peter Rabbit's siblings. They are old enough to eat on their own, but young enough that despite their fear, they still fall asleep in your arms as you rub them. They all have blue to blue-gray eyes and are each beautiful in their own right, as you can see by the pictures. They are quickly grasping the concept of a litterbox, and need loving parents ASAP.

A little update: after several name changes and still no leads on permanent homes, Tom Kitten, the little brown one, is living in my room. He was suffering from a respiratory infection and needed to be separated from the other two for a while. He's on Zithromax, and is quite the trooper. He stays at my feet so much so that I must take care to walk very slowly through through the room, and spends hours enthralled in a little ball with a bell and playing with my hands, or jumping on the laptop when I try to type with him on my bed. Could the bulldogge-girl be having some sort of crisis of the kitty kind?

Blogarithms

2005-10-25T12:31:00.000-04:00

And so I join the ever increasing numbers. Lemming, I am. Or am I? Adding time to the equation is, as I found out, the only way to tell.

I was curious about what I was about to begin here. I'd never paid attention to many blogs; every now and then I'd peek at a politically slanted blog here, an opinion driven hub of information there, and a few friends' creations, but truthfully I didn't do too much cyber-spelunking. What I found when I started poking around was that it was remarkably easy to weave through a circuit of blogs, continually linking to still more sites of interest, making information (of which I would have previously remained ignorant) readily available. One can imagine the elation felt by a student of history, someone used to the arduous process of seeking out the elusive primary source, suddenly discovering a world where the sole purpose of many of its constituents is to link a viewer further into the information conglomerate, to directly point one within seconds to the origins of posted ideas. Magic!

Excited about this "new" discovery, I needed to learn more about it, and the various constructs that have made blogs a phenomenon of which I had remained largely unaware until now. Overwhelmingly, my search on the topic was met with fairly critical response, be it from a journalist or some corporate head analyzing statistics in his corner office; the sneering opinion of many is that the blog is an empty endeavor, a simplistic human act akin to throwing a penny into a wishing well in the vain hope one's inner voice is heard and somehow answered. And that's on the up-side. The alternative, more cynical view, embodied in an article by George Packer is that a blog is simply a place where the author puts forth,

...little spasms of assertion, usually too brief for an argument ever to stand a chance of developing layers of meaning or ramifying into qualification and complication. There's a constant sense that someone (almost always the blogger) is winning and someone else is losing."

He seems to be frustrated with what he perceives as the underdeveloped, often antagonistic style of what he considers a blog. Of course I would respectfully challenge Mr. Packer's definition as too narrow. Yes, perhaps many blogs are basically sites where people pick apart some of life's minutiae, often falsely implying some kind of personal expertise on a topic. Still others are little more than updates for a specific audience, often friends, about the author's daily encounters, or an outlet for art, poetry, or pictures. However, as an unseasoned observer, it is clear that the accessibility of the blog does make it possible for an interested party to effectively publish a well-thought out statement about anything really, in a way that was not possible before. Perhaps this is why people keep throwing their pennies in; as of April of this year, a market research survey estimates 31.6 million blogs have been created. Perhaps in the face of its critics, this number reflects the inherent optimism driving the blogosphere.

I suppose this number also makes the argument that a blog is essentially useless easy to understand. Who is there to read or care about one voice in thirty-two whopping million? What does one have to say of value? Is there even a shred of originality left to be seized by something so fallible and incongruous as a brain? Be it plaguing self-doubt, or lack of commitment to their original intention, writers drop like flies on a hot sill.

The same powers that be behind the survey mentioned above, the Perseus company, released a more in depth analysis of blogs based on host sites in October of 2003, before as they claim the blogging boom had even really hit. (At this point they estimate there are about 4.12 million blogs being hosted by sites like LiveJournal and Xanga). What they report is humorously enough what I had already found when I clicked through clever titles on Blogger looking for one of my own. Driving Under the Influence & Olde English Bulldogge are perfect examples of what the figures reveal. Approximately 66% of created blogs have been abandoned, just left for dead. Beyond that, 40% of the blogs that had in fact been abandoned, (or looked at slightly differently 26% of the total blogs created), had been one-day endeavors containing a post, singular, if that. Well, at the very least, the odds are on my side that I won't lose faith after a day.

It's the long haul I'm worried about anyway. The average age of the rest of those left to wither, is four months, but some even made it past the three year mark before being left to decay. What's worse is that they figure only about half of a percent of the so-called 'dead' blogs are ever picked up and used again. Looks like if there is any way to be an ethersheep noir, it's here; forget about your blog, then rediscover it, and dedicate yourself to it. Unfortunately too, the number of blogs that have met a dismal end is probably even bleaker than estimated. Some hosting sites actually delete blogs that are inactive after six+ months, and some bloggers go so far as to remove their content from its web space when bringing their blog to a close.

So where are we? Who is left doing the blogging? Is anyone reading them? Is there a point behind all of this written ejaculate that, (if the accepted numbers are to be believed), about 13.2 million (that's roughly 1 in 20, folks!) American adults value enough to try their pe--, er, keypad, at setting forth a unique voice in the swelling cacophony? Do I have any hope of producing anything of worth here?

Well, that last one is the crux. As it turns out the blog, in itself, is really what you make it; it's a virtual design-your-own soapbox, reminiscent of a model kit from a hobby shop. It appears to be just as much an effort of love as any painstaking construction of a Sopwith Camel or an U.S.S. Constellation in a bottle. Only this fashioning of a personal story, or archiving the current times, has the potential to end only when the author meets his, should he persevere and maintain his online canvas. It seems silly not to take advantange of some of the amenities of living in the modern day, doesn't it? Apparently there are some more engaging reasons to be alive now than simply advances in dentistry.

So why not use this privilege made possible by technology, and try your hand at something, anything? In terms of content, it doesn't have to be a 'filter' or a 'journal'. What the individual blog represents can be as unique or bizarre as the mind behind it. At a panel discussion about weblogging and its effect on journalism, Scott Rosenberg, managing editor of Salon, implies infinite possibility when he loosely defines the term 'blogger' as, "...someone who uses a certain kind of tool to publish a certain kind of Web site. The label tells us nothing about how the tool is used or what is published." There is no central voice of the blogging community, no one to demand the towing of a particular 'line' or group interest. There are no limits as to what can be created and made public; there is some semblance of personal freedom here. For some, like Central/South Americans posting on host sites in the US and EU, there is actual freedom in the form of speech--talk about precious and exciting--and all through a blog?!

Since its inception the web has been touted as something that will increase communication spanning even international lines; the blog is a means to this end. I have heard the lament that the world is getting smaller, but byte by byte, blogs are broadcasting facts and commentary that are not necessarily mainstream, or considered for report by any number of media channels with their own agendas, be it for ratings, profit or politic. This is how the world is expanding, through information exchange. Ideas are available for anyone who searches for or stumbles upon them, and for the interested, offer the possibility of understanding the lives of those thousands of miles away. Take for example Barcepundit's October 20th, 22nd, and 30th entries which showcase events on the international scene that got little if any attention in the American media, along with plenty of intelligent commentary. Another useful tact for the blog is exemplified in the March 15th entry in this abandoned blog. Here is a snippet from real life; take whatever insight from it that you will. For once the interpretation of firsthand experience, (there's that primary source again), is yours. Furthermore, keep poking around and you are virtually guaranteed to learn something new or different; according to the Perseus survey, while 80.8% of blogs link to another site from their homepage, only about 9.9% link to one of almost three thousand traditional news agencies, (a list compiled via Google News sources).

When we start to look more closely at who is doing the blogging, the demographic breakdown gets a little fuzzy depending on the consulting firm performing the analysis. For example, interpreting the Perseus numbers, (56% of blogs created by females, 51.5% created by those in the 13-19 age range), The Blogging Iceberg report states,

...the typical blog is written by a teenage girl who uses it twice a month to update her friends and classmates on happenings in her life. It will be written very informally... blogging is a social phenomenon: persistent messaging for young adults."

Perhaps this assertion is supported by the incorporation of a blogging feature into social networking sites like Friendster and MySpace, however I feel this description fails to encompass what blogs have been able to achieve. Ironically, Jeffrey Henning, (Subway spokesperson Jared look-alike and flat author of the above report), doesn't do very well at blogging about blogs, perhaps due to his inability to think of the creative ways to use his space.

It is important to note that another research group finds alternatively that the gender distribution holds true in terms of percentages, but flipped, claiming men are actually more apt to create a blog, with 58% of authors being male. I am not so sure that "who" is writing them is a telling sign of how a blog is used, or to what end, except maybe in terms of age, where content is more likely (but not necessarily going) to be mature or thoughtful if a person is, say, out of their teenage years. The statistics certainly get a bit muddled when consulting the various resources available on the topic however, there is one thing about which they all agree. There is an audience; people are reading, and in large numbers.

The most recent research I could find on the topic was published in the form of a press release by the folks at the Pew Internet and American Life Project, a follow-up to their definitive 2004 study, "The State of Blogging". They report that 16% of adults (roughly 1 in 6) in the U.S. claim to have read one or more web logs. Offering some perspective, they point out this portion of the population is equivalent in size to 20% of daily newspaper readers and 40% of the talk radio audience. Clearly big-time marketeers are stopping to take note, no doubt lulling themselves to sleep at night with visions of advertising to an exponentially expanding community, and turning it into a trading post.

Fueling these hopes that blog readership can be manipulated into marketing success is the fact that, as discussed by the PIALP, the majority of American adults are technologically unaware; that is to say, 62% do not know what a blog is... yet. If advertisers could find a way to tap the blog en masse for what it is worth to them, they could look forward to a steadily increasing viewing audience for the foreseeable future. This translates into a potentially swelling consumer base. Good luck to them however as it will be no easy task to accomplish. Part of the success of the blog has relied on its personal honesty, and to begin to promote a product or cause for profit would probably cause a loss of credibility within this community of writers.

So how did it happen that while most Americans are still in the dark, the blog has taken root in the very soil of our society? In 2003 the Oxford English Dictionary saw fit to log it in the annals of our lexicon, along with terms like 'studmuffin', 'dragon lady', 'clocker', 'transgender', 'bass-ackwards' and the language shaping 'arse-licker'. After all, everyone knows an arse-licker! (For these and other additions to our language, look at the Out-of-Sequence entries, and see why, on the whole, society is not producing any future Shakespeares.) A year later, Merriam Webster voted 'blog' their Word of the Year further pointing to the concept's successful establishment. It is because of little facts like these that I find myself compelled to argue with an Australian internet research company that states, "the blog phenomenon has peaked and ... most blogs will soon be stored in the part of cyberspace dedicated to hula hoops, pogo sticks and other fashions that reached their use-by date." In fact, I think quite the opposite is true. The times, they are a-changin' maybe?

Well, let's look at this logically. Some bloggers have appeared in other forms of media, like radio and tv, and perhaps more telling, many celebs have made a crossover to becoming bloggers themselves. A notable example would be Chris Matthews' HardBlogger, perhaps an attempt to compensate for the waning interest in television news. At least slant is welcome in a blog, where a writer's disposition is also his hallmark.

What else have they accomplished besides being picked up on by the trendy Hollywood crowd you ask? Well, for starters blogs played a central role in Trent Lott's resignation and the apology elicited from Dan Rather. In both cases, blogs vehemently drove the media spotlight onto the issue and riled people up until something had to give. The search for the truth is often taken very personally. Interestingly, the blog has also been known to get people fired for talking about work, or in one case posing (pin-up style) in work clothes, so be careful what you blog about. Don't think for a second Big Brother isn't touring the Great Blog Flats right along with you. Alternatively, I would also advise being careful what you say and do to people who regularly post about their own lives; in May of this year a young man named his murderer in the last entry of his blog. Each use of the web log though vastly different has yet still had a profound effect on the authors or the subjects on which they focused.

More often, I get the sense that for those who engage in blogging regularly, it becomes a way to satisfy the need to produce. In addition it offers a person the time to sit down and dissect the barrage of information, premises and ad campaigns we are pummeled with daily. Rebecca Blood, one of the earliest bloggers, writes in her essay about the subject's history that,

...As corporate interests exert tighter and tighter control over information and even art, critical evaluation is more essential than ever. As advertisements creep onto banana peels, attach themselves to paper cup sleeves, and interrupt our ATM transactions, we urgently need to cultivate forms of self-expression in order to counteract our self-defensive numbness and remember what it is to be human."

What are we if not creatures with a predisposition for higher thinking? What are we if we never stop to use this capability, if we just wade through life's morass of mixed messages and accept whatever comes our way-- a veritable Kentucky-fried, magically delicious, steaming hot cup of bullsh*t?

I ask this rhetorically of course as I am of the persuasion who thinks the most powerfully defining characteristic of humanity is our individual ability to use higher thought processes. Beyond our reason, we are little more than a series of desires expressed by any number of animals--eating, sleeping, fucking, providing for material needs. Too often we submit to these impulses and find ourselves batted about by the pressures exerted by society's constantly spinning axis. This whirligig can be downright nauseating when swallowed day after day without question--I for one need a break in the ride, so here I am, biding my time on the amusement park line, thinking about what it is I'm doing here.

So I'm not taking on the blog in hopes that I'm going to become famous, or suddenly start blogging for dollars. I feel like I've been handed a tremendous opportunity and it would be a bloomin' shame if I said no to something so innocent and full of possibility. Who knows what will come of it; the only rule I am imposing on myself is an utter lack of limitation. To define myself in any number of narrow ways would be a mistake. To attempt to always make my thoughts short, sweet and generally palatable as a friend once remarked when discouraged about the readership of his own blog, would be an act of short-changing. There are some things that beg for explanation, in depth discussion, and I fully intend to use this space to essay into the realm of the boring-to-most. It doesn't matter if it finds itself read, just that it is written, honestly and well. It is only important that I am tossing in my two cents, that my voice is pinging through space, and I am not shying away.