Showing posts from November, 2010
Yesterday I was an extra in a local commercial. Yes, that's right. It was fun. I was in the second group of extras (about seven of us in all) who were to stand around looking like we were having a fantastic time at a party. Group one was used for the first segment, then my group was placed in for a new shot with a change of script. Later there were ending credits where the cameras focused in on beer and wine and all of us were in the background, mingling. So only arms and behinds are in that shot, haha. The location was a kitchen demo store with various kitchen set-ups. Ours was a light, French design I guess you would say. Tres expensive I'm sure of that! I was asked by this wonderful man who is a sort of celebrity around town, he owns a few very nice liquor stores, and is a super sweet guy. The connection is local theater-we were in a show together and he's always been very supportive and kind. He asked me to do a radio spot next week with a mock conversation …

Talkin' Bout the Future

I'm seeing so many ads for the new e-book readers now that Christmas shopping season is here. So I have to ask, will you be getting one? I love real books, but then again, some of those gadgets look really nice. It would be great to read in bed without having to get up and turn the light on and off, etc.
But I do wonder . . . how many people are really going to read all the books they download? I can tell you from having worked at a library that only a certain portion of society people are habitual readers. The same folks would come in week to week, and the rest were there for reports, or to read something they heard about from a friend, or because they had a fancy to read after giving it up for awhile. And what were the most popular genres? Romance, thriller, sci-fi and western. I think these will be popular on the e-readers, with cook books, craft books, history, and travel guides coming in behind. ETA: Forgot to mention YA paranormal. I think I heard magazines will be a…

The Story of Thanksgiving

Many, many years ago, long before Blogger, there were some dudes and dudettes called Pilgrims. They didn't like the way England kept shoving religion down their throats, so they fled to Holland. But they were all dirty little heathens over there, so the Pilgrims went back home for a sec. Hmmm, maybe we can borrow some moola and head over to that place BoBo found . . . Yeah, America. But won't that be a long trip? Aren't there savages over there? Geez, I don't know. Just put another nail in the Santa Maria fool.
They sail.
The pilgrims happily dock at Plymouth Rock on December11,1620. But their first winter is a real bummer and lots of people bite the dust. Luckily they have a good harvest in 1621 and there is much to be thankful for. The Pilgrims decide to have a feast! A decision is made to invite the natives, because they did, after all, help with the harvest and all that. The party lasts three days! Wild ducks and geese, venison, and, wait, where's …

A Soul

This is a soul:Fluid mercury pulsing and shapeshifting jagged on the edges like broken glass A masterpiece a Van Gogh from God's deft hands Perfection Deep like the ocean Eternal Instant Easy to burn Hard to swallow With hidden wings and gossamer strings Sometimes shielded in dark corners like a cricket waiting to sing Drink will only dampen its fire and suffocate its symphony Light beautiful light will say fly

Giving Thanks

Every Thanksgiving I, along with the rest of the world, try to remember all the things I'm so lucky to have. I'm glad to be alive. I'm happy to be a woman and a mother. I'm thankful for my precious children and for good health. I'm thankful to have different talents that keep me busy. I appreciate having all my friends here and in my day to day life. I'm thankful the world is still a beautiful place to live. I'm thankful for art and music and good books; sunlight; fall leaves; all the life that surrounds me. I'm thankful for the human experience, though sometimes painful, always exquisite.

Musicians Wanted

I like to read through the musician's wanted ads, and every once in a while I come across one that makes me laugh. First of all I want to say that I totally understand how hard it is to find a bandmate, or gig, etc. and I have a ton of respect for these folks. It was the wording that made me giggle. No harm intended.

I'm a singer/song writer, and guitarist, been playing for yrs by ear. I admire anyone that can sing and play, especially grls. I don't work or have a car, but know of a recordng studio. Wanting 2 make it big, If you're serious write me . . . (I don't work or have a car . . . Me thinks he just wants a girl to show up at his house—no guitar needed)

Seeking Female Vocalist for Duet, covers and originals. Rock.....classis and new , have big $$$ gigs ready for the right lady. Please just call 816-349-4588 ASAP (Probably harmless, but the PLEASE and ASAP made me laugh)

We are a band.... minus a drummer . . . We WILL make it. And we will NOT murder yo…


You step into the street and everything on the earth is still. Except for the sun. It hovers; its liquid, orange sphere pulsates behind hills and trees, rooftops, street signs, water towers. Clouds soak up the color; translucent, they bleed blue, and swallow scarlet. Under your feet are the crisp leaves of dying summer. They dance as you walk and sweep down into the gutters never to be seen again. Like feathers, like breaths. But you move on. A light flickers inside someone's house and a shadow fills the window. The curtain parts. It's Old Joe Myers, up for a drink. But there ain't no whiskey and it's Sunday. No liquor sold on Sundays. Sorry Joe. Now Gloria Hunt opens her door and bends down to grab the newspaper. Her robe slips a little as she stretches across the stoop. Cream skin flashes and shifts. She can't seem to collect that paper. She stumbles and falls forward, out into the cold. Squatting now, she looks up. "Oh hi! You're up …

Still Typing Along

Sometimes I wonder if it's okay to not have a potential best-seller, to know that I wrote a book some people will like, but not everyone. That's where I'm at right now, and it's kind of liberating. I got up the nerve (again) to open up the old document and take a look, do some editing, and . . . I loved it. My love still hasn't died. Rejections made me think it wasn't good enough, and it probably isn't good enough, but I still love my book. I loved it when it was really, truly, bad, and I love it now after all its edits.
A friend called yesterday and said he still wants to do a boutique publishing thing and was I still interested. Yes I am. My intent was never to be famous or make a ton of cash, my aim was to have other people—people like me—read it and find joy. Maybe only three folks will read it (hoping for more, haha).
So, that's where I am at this point. And I really feel this is what was meant to be.
I can't wait to see the new Ha…

Some of the greats

Theda Bara Vivien Leigh and Hattie McDaniel Humphrey Bogart Katharine Hepburn Audrey Hepburn Charlie Chaplin Clark Gable Cary Grant Grace Kelly James Stewart Greta Garbo

Bad blog, baaad

Blogger is being extremely weird to me today. Tried to update and lost some info; tried to repost and it wouldn't. Strange . . .

Love and Memory Bricks

Do you remember your first real love? I'd have to say in all honesty that it was Jeff Riley. I used to try to kiss him every day in Kindergarten. He was fair of face, funny, and diplomatic. My feelings carried all the way to middle school where we shared a table in art class. Every morning we sat there and talked, laughed about stupid things . . . until he asked me to GO with him (like going steady) and I thought he was joking. I really gave it to him and things were never the same.
After that I fell madly in love with the accompanist in choir class. His name was Eric Jones and he was fair-haired as well, but he had the most delicious red cheeks which blazed whenever you spoke to him. His looks, coupled with his classical piano skills, made me weak in the knees. I loved him all through high school, which I'm sure he knew, but was wise enough to never address. I just remember a special Christmas concert at a little shop in town. We were all dressed up in satin dresses …

Old Friends

Beside the beautiful harmonies in this song, I love the image of two men sitting on a bench—comrades of time; keepers of memory. Life likes to disintegrate all that is valuable so that all we have left on our last dying day is regret. But to have that old friend who stood beside you through it all, who'll always carry your soul . . .

A Soldier's Tale

There's a big generational gap in my family. We pretty much span two decades with our immediate lot, which probably explains why I have an old soul. Since it is Veteran's Day I will focus on my grandfather, Cyril Brown, who was a soldier in WWI.It was around the end of the war when he left Vinita, Oklahoma to join the army. His first training was in the calvary—soldiers on horseback—but that division was quickly shut down due to the dangerous new weapons coming up, so they opened up Fort Riley and sent him there to be a drill sergeant. Eventually, he was sent overseas on a troop ship, but because of fire coming from German submarines, his company's route moved in all sorts of directions to avoid being followed. He finally arrived in France and was stationed in the medical division. When a soldier was wounded, Grandfather and another soldier would race through the open fire with a stretcher, gather up the soldier, and then make a mad dash back to camp. As for Grandf…

Blackie on Franklin Street

Back when there were no stop signs, back when the streets were not yet paved, there was a horse on Franklin Street. Her name was Blackie, and to all us children she was the most beautiful creature in the universe, more dreamed about, more lustrous than any of the things adults were always talking about, like diamonds, or coffee, or thick, manageable hair. She was real, but unreal; massive in height and stature; graceful, yet ferocious to the touch. Her coat shone in the hot Kansas sun with blue streaks, spattered unpleasantly with horseflies and dirt specks; tail swishing to and fro in musical pattern.
Blackie was kept inside a wire-fenced back yard by the Duttons, an overweight family of four who had already lured my mother into their lair with a cookie-eating diet. She'd written them off as fools, but had been lured back again with their youngest daughter's girl scout cookie campaign. My mother was an easy target back then, as we all were with that horse who kept a perma…

Good news for some good friends

That wonderful and prolific Jessica Bell at the Alliterative Allomorph has done gone and got herself a publisher for her debut novel. I'm very proud of her and wish her much luck in the whole process! Congratulations Jessica!
I also read that the very sweet Alex Adams has a major book deal going on. WoW! Congrats to her as well! You did good!
I'm still practicing and learning songs. It's a very nice mid-seventies here in eastern Kansas and I could go out and dance in the streets but why would I do that? Why indeed?

Jill Clayburgh

The beautiful and talented Jill Clayburgh has died of leukemia at the young age of 66. She was a different kind of actress, which is in my opinion was what made her so appealing. She was neither glamorous, nor emitted the typical sexual image most starlets are required to have. She was flighty, scrawny, infectious, flirtatious, smart, cunning, and most of all, relatable. In the movie An Unmarried Woman she taught all of us how a woman could be brave in a world of hungry men. We could still be open and vulnerable, yet willing to explore that which was once rejected; to love with full force.
Here she is dancing, as she is right now, I'm sure, in a better world this new morning.

Quick Update

I haven't been very active with the blog this week mainly because I am currently focusing on the music side of things. There's been a lot of practicing for future gigs, learning new songs, etc. and so my brain is tuned more for that than the literary stuff. I'm so nervous about performing again—just the thought of it has surfaced all my insecurities. But I do feel I've been running from it and it's time to face up to the challenge. I think some people are natural born performers . . . I'm not one of them. I'm a natural born dreamer. I'm pretty good at words, can play guitar fairly decent. Performing is my nemesis and I wouldn't think of doing it at all, but some friends have urged me to go out there again.
Well, anyway, that's what is happening around here. Wish me luck and I wish you mountains of luck with your endeavors. I'll still be posting, just not as much from the look of things.

Good Cowboy Lost

Good Cowboy Lost
Bookstore Cowboy; wind-thrashed hair;Good Cowboy lost; eyes that never starebehind Truman Capote glassesand me with my five-dollar Matisse.Please?Why do you wait behind those black circles?What would happen if you sought?Would the dam—the damn dam—crumble,Collapse,Corrupt,Wash, Erupt, Engulf, Arouse, Envelop, Morph,Flow over toward everything and everyone?Those Capotes would float,and the Matisse,the damn Matisse,would crumble. Good Cowboy lost, sunlight and day;out of the shadows we pass,one going this, and the otherthat way.

Some of Film's Finest

Theda Bara

Vivien Leigh and Hattie McDaniel
Humphrey Bogart
Katharine Hepburn
Audrey Hepburn
Charlie Chaplin
Clark Gable
Cary Grant
Grace Kelly
James Stewart

Greta Garbo