March roaring in...part 2

How cool are these? My Fred treated me to a photo fest on Friday afternoon, these old steel-faced printing blocks are gorgeous!

This is how books used to be done...some day, I'd like to work with a letterpress (like Syracuse's very own Boxcar Press) and make a limited edition book of Po-emz...gotta write some first (well, I do have a few, just not sure if they should see the light of day or not.)

Wow, it's been a while since I posted here...

Snowing today, rain by tomorrow or Tuesday...sunny and 50's by Wednesday (snow all gone until the next time a front passes by with some to share.) For now, the wind that blew away February has calmed down, the flurries are falling in a gentle manner, steady and abundant, reminding us that it is winter after all...

A red squirrel and a gray squirrel were fighting over a peanut outside my studio window a little while ago...a very dramatic furry fight...gray squirrel held on to that peanut, red squirrel just bitched about it while rifling through the leaves at the base of the lilac bush, the gray bushy tail with pale ears munching the prize...once the peanut was eaten the fight was over, gray squirrel went one way, red squirrel went the other...gotta love the backyard drama...

I've been painting much of today and yesterday, and when not painting, editing Chapter 35 of Drinking from the Fishbowl...it's coming along, tightening up, expanding a bit, these last few chapters were always a little thin and felt rushed to me. I'm glad to be spending time with them and making them right...it's a long process, at times arduous (writing a book is a lot about patience), but I'm enjoying the immersion now that I'm returning to the rhythm of it after being so out of sorts for several months, I felt like I was reading and not comprehending anything I had written. Sometimes it's hard to talk about what I'm working on only because I fear boring people with the process, it's like watching grass grow, okay? Some nights I'll work on one paragraph...and the next night, the same paragraph, only I change a word here, add another sentence there...the next night, take that sentence out, change that word back to the original word. (See what I mean?) You'd think I'd know what I want to say by now...I don't believe a book is ever truly finished, I could go back and rework it endlessly...the story will remain the same, but the words might be rearranged to tell it better. (What the hell right? If Stephen King can say the Dark Tower series is done at last, and then add another book in the middle of it a few years later, that's entirely up to him - it's his story to tell, and if it's still being told, let him tell it. If I want to shake my fist and say: "You bastard!" That's fine too. ) I do love Fishbowl, even though I've had such a time with it, the darn thing came from my earliest efforts as a writer, before I really had my literary shit together. I'm sure not everyone will like it just because they can, but the ones who will like it, will appreciate it for what it is...it's a psychological study, the loyalty of friends, a love story (with a little bit of a nod to soap opera's, which makes it a social comedy of sorts, tho' a little darker in a grim sort of way)...it's a book about dreams and realities. I'm glad that I haven't rushed it...it's going to be a better book for the extra effort on my part. I'm sure everyone who has an opinion will try to tell me how to write it, but see, the thing is...it is written the way I want to tell it, it has it's own voice, and who's to say that voice is right or wrong. I'm quite satisfied so far...but then, it's been several years in the making, and I haven't read the first chapter since March 16th of last year...so you see...who knows what I'll find when I pick up the printed hard copy later this spring once I'm ready to do the final pass through this summer! I'm a different writer now than I was a year ago, my vision has sharpened, not that I'm going to carry it off to another realm, there might be something that I've learned since then that I will need to apply to the earlier chapters...

I know I'm excited. It's a beautiful thing.

Lake Effect...

It is snowing sideways tonight...nothing new about that sort of thing, it goes with the winter package, I rather like it when it seems threatening, the beauty of Lake Effect snow, it is fickle and drifts away, and sometimes it snows and sun shines at the same time, it's very pretty.

looking up, under the barn floor

Popeye's February Portrait

 I was trying to get a shot of the old seed pod, but it wasn't working out so well angle-wise...but the snow is certainly pretty!


A Portrait of Max, Nose and Paws - Stories to sniff and great rumors of travel, 2/11/2012

Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog’s paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumors of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog’s paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt.  It’s a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so’s garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen - a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day.
— Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

After reading this passage one day quite a long time ago…I never saw a dog’s paws in the same way ever again. That’s the power of a good book. (That never made it into the movie.)

 Old Willy Big is well known for his dramatic sleeping positions...he's so cute. (Don't worry, the Piggy is okay.)

February...

tracks in the snow

 It's been a long strange winter, hardly any snow...when we get it, it melts in a day or two, or it's in the form of styrofoam-like balls of ice that are like driving on marbles...and then the rain and gray. There is a slight chance of sun today (or so I've heard), but the layers of gray seem impenetrable for the time being. I feel a little bit at a loss without having to slog around in knee deep snow while walking the dog...it's nothing to complain about, I'm not complaining, just observing like I do, peering out the window at the brown and gray season that is normally swathed in white powder brought to us by the great lake Ontario or some crabby Nor' Easter scrambling up the Atlantic seaboard, raising hell...I miss having a good blustery storm roaring in, messing things up for a day or two and then the calm, crystalline day after that is always a beautiful relief.

the snow dog

Last weekend a very brief event blew through our little acre of the world, shook the house, made the walls creak, the windows rattle and my desk swayed...I paused and thought, "Do I need to go in the basement?" Whatever it was, it was over in less than a minute, I noticed out the window that there was crazy sideways blowing snow in the headlights of passing cars, and then nothing just as sudden as it started. Weird. I really admire Mother Nature, she's awesome.

a tangle wrapped around a stone

How about them Republicans? Huh (scratches head). I know I'm at times baffled. Fidel Castro weighed in via Newsweek that the Republican Primary race is "the greatest competition of idiocy and ignorance there has ever been." No shit, he's still alive? Trampolines vs. safety nets...we can't have both I guess. Yeah, whatever...talk talk talk...there's so much hot air coming from this campaign it's no wonder there's no snow in Central New York...

Back to the lack of snow...

If you think about it all the SuperPac money being spent on the Presidential campaign ads would help a shit load of poor people...and maybe have some left over to do something else good for the nation...

All I can say is it's an ugly election season...

The division between ideologies has invaded my family in a small-ish way a few months back...my sister-in-law unfriended me (and her brother) on Facebook because of our liberal leanings...claiming we're too angry...me angry? I don't think I'm angry at all, if anything, I'm just sensible and I can't stand ignorance, intolerance, and the flood of lies that support ignorance and intolerance...

Blah, blah, blah...

shells from dinner one night, dinner was tasty, the shells are pretty

a dried hydrangea blossom that came from the wind

frosty morning

 

the dregs from the road

I want some silence and contemplation time this weekend...and maybe a peek or two of sunshine.

Snow sprayed

A new year...

Collage #1, 1/1/2012

 It snowed...we rec'd a January's worth of snowfall in the last couple of days after balmy 40's flirting with 50's just a couple of days ago...Although I've been known to complain, I don't mind the snow, I don't mind the cold, it's supposed to be that way when it isn't, it feels wrong...a small flock of red wing black birds have been visiting my bird feeder today, poor little birds were feeling secure that it was okay to stick around the brown fields and marshes...the ground isn't frozen so there's been plenty to eat...oops...dang...so I stepped out and put extra in the feeder to feed the extra visitors...

Collage #2, 1/1/2012

Two Thursday's in a row, there has been a flock of crows outside of my office at work early in the morning...they are very noisy!

Taking Flight and Perching, 1/5/2012

Been laying low, not feeling 100%, the usual FMS stuff, back issues, and a digestive system that has not been happy with the rich holiday food, but I'm getting better, treating myself well...

Perching, 1/12/2012

I'm currently reading Owls Do Cry by Janet Frame...her writing is always so stunning, some passages are dense and gorgeous, while some are simply frank, to the point...my favorite part is the beginning of Chapter 4, page 19:

Their town, called Waimaru, was small as the world and halfway between the South Pole and the equator, that is forty-five degrees exactly. There was a stone monument just north of the town, to mark the spot, in gold lettering.

- Traveller, the writing said, Stop here. You are now standing halfway between the South Pole and the equator. 

What did if feel like to be standing at forty-five degrees?
It felt no different.

Of course it doesn't feel different...it's just one of those things. It tickled my funny bone...I know such things have disappointed me in the same way...


Speaking of books...
Here's a recent review of Dusty Waters, even though it isn't the best, thought I'd share it anyway:

(2 stars) This book started out so well that I was captivated. I read it in 2 days. But about 2/3 of the way thru the book it fell apart for me.
The story is about a woman retelling her life story to a friend, who is writing her biography.
The young Dusty is so interesting and well created that I really liked her character. She sees ghosts throughout her life and she tells some of their stories, her interactions with them, and her own feelings about seeing them.
But the grown up Dusty is a woman I did not like at all. The author seemed to use this character as a political platform and the language used when writing for the adult was just unnecessary.
I could give this book 2 and 1/2 stars, but not 3...


No big deal. I appreciate the reader's thoughts...everyone comes to a book with their own set of tools from personal experience. To be honest, Dusty's adult life wasn't my favorite part to write, believe me, I know she made me cringe when I wrote her, what she went through is a complete departure from my life...her life did fall apart...there's something secure about childhood that is lost once we hit puberty and grow up, how we turn out comes down to choices and Dusty made many bad decisions...if I could, I'd ask the reader, "Do you think Dusty was happy with her adult self?" I don't think too many of us are completely satisfied with how we turn out when we grow up...Dusty had to start over, she grew, she "reformed", she went home again...just like Aunt Mabel and just like her mother...

As for Dusty's politics...this seems to ruffle the feathers of the more conservative readers, which I knew when I wrote it (I'm still waiting for a good old fashioned book burning, that trumps the "wall of shame" any day of the week!) Oh well...she's a folksinger (Are there conservative folksingers?) Dusty was born at the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation, she grew up during the Vietnam era with a different perspective than her older siblings. This difficult period in American history affected her psyche, and her edgy point of view about the human condition places her as a distinguished bookend for her generation...during the early stages of writing this book, I particularly went for this left leaning mindset in reaction to 9/11, I was feeling a bit outraged by the right and left division of our country in the aftermath of the tragedy. For the record, I'm a social liberal who's conservative slip shows on fiscal matters...and I support the protection of the wild horses out west...How about that BLM? Gotta love how they piss away millions of taxpayer dollars rounding up a few hundred wild horses and burros to make room for the tens of thousands of privately owned cattle who do more damage to the range environment...I could go on, but I'll step off my soapbox...

Language, this has upset a few more sensitive readers...yes, Dusty has a potty mouth, she comes by it honestly...she's seen things to make her angry enough to drop an "F-bomb" before 9AM on any given day...words are words, some are more colorful than others...for the record, I've been known to have a potty mouth...and yes, I have dropped the "F-bomb" before 9AM, with good reason.

I think the funniest thing I ever heard about a reader doing to a book with "too many swears" and "naughty parts" (I think it was The Time Traveler's Wife) she used white out and then was able to read it...whatever works, I guess.

Can't win 'em all...I writez 'em as I seez 'em, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So my digital sketchbook is full again...overflowing...


I love studying shadows and shapes...the floor and stairway in the gallery caught my eye one early morning, some overhead lights had been left on...the mix of textures made this fun...











The kitties have been good...Crouching Tigger-Hidden Pooh sat semi-still long enough to catch his expression...he has developed little "worry wrinkles" on his brows...so cute! (He's 13 years old, will turn 14 in April.)




Popeye is looking good...he likes to pose for his portrait...






 That's it for now...thanks for stopping by...

End of Year

Rust 12/24/2011

 It's been a long, strange year...with all the good that I experienced, I dealt with the bad...the loss of my mother being the defining moment...one thing I've learned out of this, the deeper the sadness, the greater the beauty.

Ice

 My digital sketchbook is so chock full of beauty...I'm having trouble keeping up with what I find to photograph...

Hoar Frost Morning

Hoar Frost

Viola Leaf on Stone

My camera has lingered in the garden, photographing the decay of leaves, their paper thin skins lying on the barren surfaces of stones...

Snow Covered Dirt Road 12/24/2011

 The trips to visit my father in the nursing home take us past places of interest, and I'm always finding something along the way...

Hook and Cable 12/24/2011

Electric Plastic Santa Light, 12/24/2011

 Yes, Santa came and left presents...including a nice dusting of snow on our hilltop acre while folks down the hill had none...it was pretty nice having an exclusive white Christmas...

Snow Morning

Popeye Two Months Later...

 Popeye has been a bright yellow tabby spot these last two months... he's a special little guy...I guess he came when I needed him, and when he needed us...he's settled in and is happy and healthy, he loves napping on the "people bed" with his buddy Butters and the two new additions to our family who came to us this year enjoyed their first Christmas in their new home. (They are just as spoiled at the rest of them!)

Digital Sketchbook...

Grape Vine and Leaf, 11/25/2011

White Leaf

Grape Vines

Mock Orange Leaves

The Tangle on the Fence

Peony Leaves

Hosta Leaves

Hosta Leaf

I've been up and down, and all around...the turkey turned out perfect, the dinner was a spread of all spreads, I out-did myself again...Thanksgiving is thankfully come and gone...I'm resting quietly today, taking a load off to hopefully stay out of FMS flare-up land...this is always a "dance" that I must step lightly along and gently...trying not to set off that wretched bomb that ticks under my skin, in my connective tissues and joints, in the cartilage between my ribs, and in my head where there's something going on in the wiring of my brain that sends wayward signals or something...

Whatever...does anyone really know what Fibromyalgia is? (Other than a gianormous pain!)

I'm just damn lucky that I'm on the upside of whatever it is and I didn't have a flare-up start in the midst of all of the prep and festivities...I did all right. I can't complain...and so here I am, I'm surrounded by sleepy kitties and a snoring dog, so I'm pretty close to nap time myself...it feels good to have the option to not do a damn thing today!

Hi, Popeye! What a perky pair of ears you have!

Monday the stitches come out and the "fancy" collar goes away...we can't wait!