ahoy canadia

hello blog, how are you?

i'm stuck in canada. yep.

it snowed in boston last night, so our little 13-row plane was three hours delayed. we missed our connecting flight from halifax to heathrow. so we're at this nice hotel with all the other people that got stuck here with us.

i was sort of grumpy last night about it. but we've had a nice sleep and a nice breakfast (i had these pancakes that tasted like they were made with actual cake batter--pretty good i'd say) with real canadia maple syrup. yums.

so we are on our way to england to spend the holiday with ryan's family. it's just taking us a little longer. we're going to skip out on the man u match we were meant to go to in order to spend more quality time with the people we don't get to see very often. i was excited about the match, but it will be more rewarding and more relaxing to just hang out with friends and family.

i think next time we fly to england we'll go in the summer for two or three weeks instead of just a short one-week trip during the busy christmas traveling season and snow storm season.

well, someone else wants to use the hotel computer, and ryan and i are probably going to go to the aviation museum to see the airplanes or something canadian... other than hanging out at the airport for 10 hours.

^_^

happy crimbo all. will update and maybe include pictures when we get back. if you read this kittens, i love you all.

trouble him

i troubled myself
for the tremble and amble motive

the soft pink around his eyes
from less sleep from more talk

the lilt of his voice, a laugh that carries
and a tongue tying itself around chaos and argumentation
with the easy of a lover

to the insecurities hidden in books
and smiles and chitter chatter

a polite man, a gentle warmth

a passionate fighter with grace and conscious

my white knight in fleece armour
bucking the future he had in the past

and a credible sense of sorrow

my urge, met by the pillow side manner
of a want and a cuddle

happy birthday mom ^_^

the privacy of wells

the recognition is exposition, eruption.
the temptation is too great to ignore.

three children playing in the back garden of a duplex on Cordon Avenue
face a well. a bucket. and a ladle.

in her reflection one sees, she claims, eight colours. the colours form a rainbow.
she is the rainbow, she says.

the boy by her side, her brother, elbows her.

their friend looks at the girl’s reflection and confirms.
she is the rainbow. and he is the cloud.

her brother grunts, tells his sister and the boy “you’re grossing me out”.
he leaves. disgusted.

as he leaves, his sister and the boy drop pennies into the well.
he shakes his head. rainbows, gross.

the girl tells the boy, as if no one had ever said it before,
“every cloud has a silver lining”

he replies, “at the end of every rainbow is a pot of gold.”

they giggle, kiss, and hold hands. each staring at the other’s reflection in the well.

demmi sufferage

submit to the tug and rub of your lover's wants
the regal growl of his belly at eight in the morning

the ground plated with thin, wet snow
which sticks to the bottom of your shoe -- like something sweet --

your refuge is in a mug of oriental influences
and the tone of the monks' guttural hymn

take it with you, under the canopy of his imagination,
a torch of wonder and a wand of strategy

the logic of his birth and decay
the measure of his devotion

both yours to drink up
beside your breakfast of fat, juicy treats

painting by Dina Brodsky

word catalyst magazine -crimbo edition!

my secret life

stretch me in
the wake of the sun

the hiss of
an autumn morning

my triumph and the bold
return in the dust

of a season less
faltered by a creased brow.

the scent of a
decaying leaf

in a child's palm
awakens us to love

and the secret life
of rags and fools

my hand in yours

the secret is in the ballot
the heart in the shoe
the point in the hall

and the sailor in the wreck

happy turkey day!

here's a toast, to ugly birds that taste so good...




... thank you turkeys!!!

high school ties -

Kim and I went to CT with our Roots & Shoots gang in middle school -sixth grade- to meet Jane Goodall. that's how long i've know her.

and although we've never been very close, we've never been very far apart either.

check out Kim's art and webdesign. i think, time permitting, i might eek out on these later.

I Submit

pseudonym "unsaid" started a blog to keep track of his/her poetry submissions, acceptances and rejections. it's a new blog, but if he/she keeps up with it, i'm excited to see how the adventure unfolds.

he/she also left a shiny little comment on my submission post

announcement:

MY SISTER IS GETTIN' MARRIED!!!

this is alli

and this is the little story about how she came to live with us.



alli used to live with bobby. bobby works at two brother's pizza with me. he had to find alli a new home because she kept trying to sleep with his three month old baby; bobby's wife was nervous about the cat in the baby's crib and made him find her a new home.

i mentioned that there was a young cat up for adoption to my sister while at my mom's house and it was my mom who jumped at the offer. so, one monday afternoon a few weeks ago bobby dropped alli off at my mom's house in yarmouth.

after two weeks, my mom, dad and brother were pretty sure that alli and pippin (the lovable but excitable corgi) would never get along. my mom told me over the phone last week that they weren't going to be able to keep alli.

of course i felt guilty by association. i was the person that made the connection and introduced the whole idea of alli living with my mom and dad. so i told ryan and ryan thought, then, that we should adopt alli for a while to see how she got on with jack and rowdy.

we brought alli home after sunday dinner last week and all manner of kitten fury rose. the tension was high and ryan and i weren't sure what to do.

thank goodness for the internet. ryan and i read up very quickly on what to do when introducing a new kitty to the family. we gave alli her own room with toys, food and litter. we put jack and rowdy's food near the door to her room, and have been giving all three of them treats by the door. we also traded toys, blankets, and strokes as a way of getting all the kitty smells combined and mixed up. we neutralized them to each others' smells.

after a day or so we let them see each other through a crack in the door. they got better and better about seeing each other. rowdy made huge improvements; especially considering he was inclined to hide in a different room to her at first.

today was their first play session. ryan and i got everyone in one room and moderated. they're still sensitive to each other, but what a difference from just a week ago. there'll be more play time sessions before we let everyone out for good, but ryan and i are pretty confident that the three of them will be able to live comfortably with each other.

so, jack and rowdy have a new sister.



p.s. alli bit my finger while i was playing with her wednesday night (completely my fault) and it got infected, which hella hurts and the antibiotics give me a silly sort of stomach ache. anyway, that's why there's a brace on my finger in that picture with her. and why my hair is a mess (really hard to put my hair back with one and a half hands). and yeah, this has taken me quite a while to type >_<

educate yourself

step one: read t.s. eliot's The Waste Land

step two: read LolCat's Teh Waste Lands

rowdy likes lollipops

post # 681

there's a skeleton staring at me as i write my paper at the wilkens library at the cape cod community college. he looks a bit thin. he's missing some ribs--they've been replaced with rubber molding.

poets wanted

Hey!

Shirley Allard (you may know her as HouseMouse) is seeking dedicated, quality poets to writer for and/or submit to her online magazine called Word Catalyst.

If you've got something knocking about, send it her way (there's an email address on the submissions page of the mag's website).

And good luck

^_^

got 19 minutes to spare?

this is the best holiday-season song ever

happy november!

you need to read Kristin's poetry

she's beautiful and tipsy and wonderful. see...

I wonder what a skunk feels like
if you drive your hand
into their rich fur.
I'll bet they're very soft,

an alter of an animal,
slow and careful, at which to worship
when we've run out of better ideas --

ideas like itchy uniforms,
clawed, burying
those inalterable colors.

The skunk by the library doesn't share a body
with a hundred others like him.
The one I saw yesterday is the same one I see today.
When I stare, strangers stare with me.
We stare together. We walk in a half moon,
building another planet
around the skunk, like trash can lids.

visit her live journal blog for more awesome poems like the one above!

on The Bathos - readers wanted

hello you.

i'm looking for a few sets of eyes to read over the little collection i just whipped up and maybe give some constructive feedback. are you interested? leave a comment with your email address in and i'll send it to you, or email me at kaacheson [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk

if i make any changes you suggest, i'll put you in an acknowledgements section before submitting it to any presses.

this is awesome

[click on the title "this is awesome" for pdf]

the Franken Monkey unleased (a halloween story)

when children are naughty
on halloween, the tiny zombie monkey
will rise from the dead.

his brain was removed
by an evil scientist, and the only way
Franken Monkey can feel better
is to stuff candy into his vacant head.

so the evil scientist lets him loose
on the bad little kids
who have lots of loot.

and BEWARE!
if those children are really
really bad
Franken Monkey might even drool in their ears!

gross!!



[note: i have an atomic monkey here on my desk, just like the picture i have there, though i didn't take that picture for time saving purposes. it came from urban retro's site]

thank goodness, the turkeys are back

need to write.

last autumn was inspiring because of a certain band of turkeys. when there's more than two turkeys, what are they called? a pride? a band? a flock? a gaggle? anyway, last year this time was a poetic time for me because every day on my way to school in the morning i would see the turkeys on the side of the road chewin' up cigarette butts or grass or whatever it is those gorgeous ugly birds eat.

unfortunately, they haven't been around this year. now maybe i'm just remembering wrong, maybe they didn't come out until late October/early November, but i've been missing the scraggly bunch this year.

i've been looking out for them, but they're no where to be found.

skip from last year this time to the present. not that i've had a bad day all around, but it's been a ... trying day.

i had a decent tutoring session or two, ate nothing but candy (it is a holiday after all) and paid off some dept to the man. but i've been really stressing about my thesis and after spending about 3 hours talking to various people at length about my ideas and my work and future, i was feeling pretty low. i called ryan and rambled on for near enough an eternity about this and that and them and all to the point where he actually had to cut me off and remind me he was in the middle of some work.

so i'm driving home. not really upset, but not very bright either. no turkeys. i'm thinking, it would be great to see some birds about now. (i'm not even joking, that was the exact thought that ran through my head.) no turkeys.

i pull off the mid cape highway onto 130 on my way home and wouldn't you know... six.. yep SIX turkeys hanging out on the side of rt 130 in sandwich ^_^ and they looked pretty damn ugly too!

have had more than just candy to eat now, have hot tea in front of me, got some thesis work done and all thanks to the turkeys, i'm feeling pretty good about today.

now, time to party!! like a turkey!!

Happy Halloween!

poetry, publishing and blogs - what it means to be a poet on the internet

russell engages us in poetics conversation

this is a fabulous conversation, cherubs. if you haven't read into it yet, hop on over to Yuckelbel's Cannon and read the post he links to, read the comments on that post, read Russell's post on the matter, read the comments on Russell's post... then finally, add to it.

trust me, by the time you've read everything that's humming you'll have something to say... or you'll be writing your own blog post about it, furthering the conversation (and hopefully engaging new poets and talkers in the dialogue) like i am here.

the matter: professional poets. the question arose, what does it mean to be a professional poet?

never mind that. what does it mean to be a poet? that's a taxing question.

a poet: one who writes poetry. is this good enough? no, because then you get into the whole debacle of defining poetry. trust me i've tried this one, it isn't easy. in fact i sort of came to the conclusion that, like porn, you just know it when you see it.

a poet: one who calls him or her self so. a poet: me. a poet: russell. a poet: you.

we could go around in circles all day trying to figure out what makes a poet. i am a poet. the end. don't beat around the metaphysical bush, just admit to it, you are, otherwise you would not be reading this. promise.

so the real interesting issue here, for me, is how we, poets, share our work.

i made the analogy in russell's comment thread about the blogosphere being the new network of hipster cafes.

keats and wordsworth were the first of their kind. forget where i read it, but they made tea shops the place to be. today, poets make blogs the place to be.

but there's a problem, as russell notes, for poets who wish to gain recognition via publication online in order to someday find their name in print. publishers are beginning to deny poems that have already been published to blogs.

a catch 22
recently, whenever anyone has asked me how to get published, i tell them to start a blog.

all of my success in poetry publications to date are *directly* linked to my blog and the connections i've made with other blogging poets.

a collaboration i took part in with another blogger (someone i met through blogging) is being published before the end of this year--in print.

didi at mipo radio found me through my blog.

i was found by the editor of in our own words--a print anthology of poetry--via my blog.

we're all being included in the anthology of younger poets--another print anthology--because we blog.

and the lovely folks at the onion union found me through my blog.


it's interesting though... that publishers are beginning to realize, to notice the power of poetry blogs. look at the number of readers we share. hell, even if we're only reading each other, then some of us are getting more readers than some small presses.

i know that a hand full of people are going to see this post (and although they may not read it, they read the short poems i post, right ozy?).

maybe that's a problem for small presses though. blogs are easy. they're free. they're interactive. they're modern and they're everywhere.

the old argument that paper will stand the test of time holds true for me. paper is gorgeous. i LOVE print chappies and magazines and anthologies. nothing beats them.

but as a poet... what medium do you chose? or do you have to?

as magnificent as paper is... i build my micro-empire, built my name, on the web. on blog spot. thank you google.

i've even met one of my best friends through google's blogger.

so, as poets who blog... what do we think?

the real issue here... do we have to chose a format? or, how do we balance our worth in paper and continue to maintain a secure network of close, open minded poets whom we share our work with?

on Bathos

hello ether. internet, how are you?

i just wanted to keep you both updated to the fact that i'm actually writing poetry right now. i'm just not posting it because it's a project that i hope to submit as a chap book to a few small presses. that is, if i write enough material and in a short enough time. wrote a bit today, maybe will write a bit more before bedtime.

it's called Bathos or possibly The Bathos of Nomos IF i can find proof that nomos is a real word (the only place i've seen it so far is wikipedia and we all know how reliable that source is...).

so, once submitted i might post a few bits. until then... i may be sticking to providing you with pretty songs via youtube inserts. ^_^ enjoy!

some surprise

here is a pretty song:

two little poems and new glasses

i wrote these two little ditties in my spare minutes today...

a poem on 10/17/07

i demonstrate power
i never deny truth

my strength is honesty

i am beautiful
and my words carry me.

to tell the story
that begs to be told.

and, i'll try not to swear
too much.

(as if i were...)

another poem on 10/17/07

as i write
my penmanship
becomes less like
my sister's
and more like my
husband's

*****

looksee. katy got new specs.











i know, i know. i'm a complete goofball. but if you think 5 pictures of me in the mirror is bad, you should see the 27 other ones on my facebook !!!

gain

the weight of plush hearts and arrows
in a fancy metal elevator

so,
we terminate on the eighth floor
across the hall from the dirty breakfast plates.

rock & shock weekend

had a pretty good time at r&s this weekend. a few little bumps, but i got to meet greg nicotero!!!! who is really nice and friendly and all the things you want a celeb to be.

also met the avellan twins who were in both grindhouse films. they were uber sweet, gave ryan and i a few free signed photos.

most notably, though, was hanging out with angela bettis and jimmy (see picture below) at the after-show parties.

and guess what!!! jimmy knows the doctor!!!

lots of thanks to dreadcentral.com for getting me into the show, and paul nomad for the free stuffs.

and also, a shout out to my peeps at punkstuff.com... they actually have a 'The Stuff' tee and they gave me some free buttons ^_^ you guys are awesome!



p.s. this is post number 666

i don't think you're ready

another cool thing...

somethingKaty is now dedicated to introducing you to cool things that are too expensive to go buying on a whim... like these amazing mittens... both practical AND romantic!!

[There She Is!!] and [Cake Dance]

you can view these videos at sambakza.net for better overall quality.

ethos

the way you see me. the way you feature me, a sign. the weight of your affections. the rhythm of heart beats against idiosyncratic heart beats. the sigh. the way you leave me, before you. the way you float, the surroundings. the way i see you, a mirror. the want of more, of lust. the resound. the rumble in my belly after sex. the wait for me, patiently. the way you elbow me. you smile at me. the way you love me. the way you hate me. the way you are me. harbor me. the way you want me. the way you struggle. the struggle for me. the way you wonder. the way you linger. the way we dance. the way we walk, synchronized. the way you give to me. and take from me. the way you parallel me. the opposing force

to my negative charge.

read poetry

H E R E

dear matt whitcome

how many years has it been
since i last thought of you?
seven or eight ? maybe more?

remember when you used to hang out
outside the drug store, next door to the karate school
and drink soda and swear with your friends?

too young to do too much harm then.

was that you in the passenger seat of the black grand cherokee?
you waved at me, smiled, as if you knew me,
but you don't know who i am tonight
or what i dream like in my sleep, or waking.

we have no idea about each other.

do we want to?

the me fore

altruistic to a fault
and indecisive as hell

anyone have $54 to spare?

LOOK!!! it's Simmy the Scott duffel and i am wanting...




he's big, i wouldn't take him everywhere, but he would be the ULTIMATE in over-night bag awesomeness! and i wouldn't call him Simmy, i'd call him B-9 (like the vitamin, but also like K-9 the awesomest robot dog ever).

OOH! AND...

i can has one of these too? (for an additional $52).



is cute, no?

i thouht he would

we met at parties
where he asked me out over a microphone
under the drum of a guitar and the resonance
of breaking glasses on tin hearts

we went lost together
through dimensions unseen, riding electrons
through scopes and curves and heavy backpacks
watching the lights on an atlas of the world
blink up at us with longing

dare i poetric, my tin heart wonders
which light is his
knowing he doesn't, couldn't possibly be missing me
any measure to match my own

in the form of complex conversations
and simple enthusiasm
a smile and a laugh over soup in styrofoam cups
and a matter of similar ages

yes, i do miss him

just in case anyone actually is interested...

i've started a new blog called writing at the center.

it's a digression on my thesis and internship research.

i guess i'm putting it out here because i have been dedicating myself to school to the point where i don't have the time or brain power to poetry.


sad, i know.

duke special is pretty on the inside

do you hai(na)ku?

1.
need to write // write
__a new______// a new
____poem______// poem to need

2.
want to meet // meet
__a regular___// a regular
_____habbit____// habbit to want

day three

the sweet tendrils of our kiss
_taper to a vanishing point
_and we're regular already.
the smell of your skin on the pillow
_is familiar and i know the pattern
_you brush your teeth in.

lap

it's so easy to fall
into the lap of a character we know

we know so well, what he'll say
do
and want

to please him.

so we do.

Audry: the baby horse

at two bro's pizzaz and mejicano i have a regular monday night thing. she's my girl Candice (who I'm going to start calling Candy from now on, since i found out yesterday that that's her nickname among her amigas). anyway, Candy has two horses. one's called Charlie. the other, is called Luna. Luna, just 8 days ago now, popped out a brand new baby horse. i got to meet this brand new horse yesterday, and she is amazing.

the new baby horse is called Audry. she's super soft to touch and so sweet. i didn't get any pictures of her running around, but she jumped and leaped all awkward and baby-horse like.

doz ur catz has their own biznuss cardz?

i dunt think so.

i don't write poetry and i'm a liar

his first wife on pilot.eye

you know how i don't write poetry any more...

but i like to give you something to taste anyway... taste this.

i am.

NeO Pepper Press and Me

i may or may not have announced this previously, but Craig Perez submitted our collaborative exercise to a few publications (picked up by two online zines). as a result, Neo Pepper Press are publishing Origami Shipwreck this autumn.

this is obviously very exciting. sorry if i actually did wait so long to make the announcement.

you can't order them yet, but i'll be sure to update you when the books are available.

^_^

i can't wait

for beautiful katamari!!

at our future table

you walked in on our conversation
over tea and berries and leonard cohen dreams

overly, you stalked the subject
demanding the dream to shift keys


read more at word catalyst magazine

oh natalie

this made me laugh

post #641

this is a blog entry. i don't do them often, at least, i try not to...

reason for entry: katy no write poetry lately.

i am working on writing poetry, exercising. as a matter of fact, i've got a little journal type thing happening. i was sitting in orientation for the second of three days and started thinking to myself 'wow, i really haven't written anything lately... maybe i should start a journal.' next thing i know, text book publisher chick is giving out all sorts of swag--including a journal notepad type thingy.

i haven't written anything of worth yet... a few hai(na)ku and am doing this itty series called "The Spectrum of The Apple" which was inspired by a comment made by Tracy Harrison--my supervisor's (super beautiful) beautiful wife and now part time teacher--while discussing the similarities between her son and her husband: "the apple doesn't fall far from the spectrum", which, if you knew Stan (my supervisor/prof), you'd have to laugh.

on top of not writing, i start classes on tuesday, which means even less time to write (i think that's how it works anyway, although i may end up writing a ton, because my brain will be on again). and i still haven't finished Anchee Min's Red Azalea (which is a magnificent book).

other reason for blog post: katy not up to date with wrestling. somehow this makes me sad. i like to have my beat on wrestling, especially since ryan and i got into Ring of Honor--which is an incredible local promotion (local to the Northeast). we went to a dvd taping and i was caught in the crossfire of a boston street fight, one of the briscos pointed right at me to get out of the way, it was a rush, a bit scary, but i knew those guys would never hurt anyone but themselves and each other. it was pretty awesome.

ah, but i haven't even watched all of summerslam yet :(

i'll have all of sunday off starting in a week, so ryan and i can catch up on all the wrestling and tv shows and everything we're watching at the moment... wild palms, carnivale, heroes, coupling, twin peaks (not like we haven't watched it before) and the prisoner (which, yes, we've seen before too, but we're going to Port Marion at christmas time!!!!)

oh, what else...

good stuff:

dina and maya are coming over for breakfast. i've been able to see a bit of the brodsky sisters this month. they came over two weeks ago, and came to the book store to buy pretty books that saturday after. i very rarely--since leaving umass--get a chance to see them twice in as many weeks. it's so nice to see them, to hang out with them. it's especially nice because i feel really relaxed with them and with school approaching, and work not really lightening up yet, i've been a little stressed these past few days. (still not sure if my syllabus is going to fly with the higherups.)

Halloween:

ah, yes, another good thing. Rob Zombie's remake of the Carpenter Classic Halloween is out in theatres today. we're going to see it right after meeting Tim--ryan's soon to be new boss at EB games--at the mall.

there are lots of other good things... hell, i'm already looking forward to my birthday--to seeing ashraf and to eating a big happy meal of meats at fogo ^_^
and of course, kitties make people happy.

but for the sake of sakes i'll call this the endinginginging.

featurette

rolling out -
from under the keys of your confidence.

black and white dawn
with buttered toast
and the smell of your sex lingering.

he asked me to marry him
and i told him to ask again
- in a year -

one night's not enough.

you know when...

you know when you think up a line, a strophe, whatever, and then think to yourself 'i'll remember that, it's so good how could i possibly forget it?' then repeat the line(s) to yourself a few times... you know when that happens? it happens to us all.

and then you know when, the next day you're sitting at the computer ready to write something but nothing is coming to you and then you slap your forehead and remember that you thought you'd remember that great line? you remember it's great but can't remember even the most remote aspect otherwise. don't you just hate that?

in loving memory of herbert

herbert is michelle and josh's pretty girl kitty. herbert has been through a hell of a lot the past two weeks (you can read michelle's account here).

and most unfortunately, herbert died at the animal hospital yesterday afternoon.

having lost two cats this year, i empathize with where michelle and josh are right now. but know, too, that there probably isn't anything i can say to make them feel better.

that doesn't mean i can't try though...

michelle, it sounded like you have doubt about the actions you took. and maybe it didn't end up the best choice, but ryan and i are so proud that you went through the strain, the trouble, and the efforts to do what was best for herbert. too many people give up too soon, but not you. i know you guys fought, and i know herbert fought. you made the best choices you could. i just wish it'd turned out better for you.

max and herbert are playing together in kitty heaven.


(((((michelle))))) (((((josh))))) (((((loomis)))))

from Twin Peaks (part five: people are strange)

from Twin Peaks (part four: abandoned train car)

i'm on page 40

of In Our Own Words: Vol 7, which isn't out on amazon yet, but will be hitting shelves before this year is over.

it's my first printed-anthology publication and i'm very excited by it. to see my name in print in the long list of names is warming.

thanks Marlow ^_^


A Generation Defining Itself

from Twin Peaks (part 3: Teresa Banks' trailor)

it was 1 or 2 in the morning and we (the "B&E team, as Josh's mom refered to us as) went to take a few pictures of Teresa Bank's trailor at Fat Trout. Beloved Bryan went up to the door and whispered "i'm going to try the door" which was followed by a creek and a "it's open".



















we didn't break... we just entered. and it was worth it.