kitchen_kink: (Default)
Hey all -

Anyone in need of a nifty apartment right in Harvard Square, on Dana St? [livejournal.com profile] neuroliz's condo is up for rent again!

This is a beautiful little studio with high ceilings, a working fireplace, laundry in the building, and a storage unit included. $1100 a month, negotiable.

Let me know!
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Hey all,

My good pal and excellent writer/thinker Mike Marano is teaching a class at Grub Street this fall - at least, he will be if he gets enrollment up. Go sign up for his next class - or tell your friends about it!

***
Noted fiction editor, Stoker and International Horror Guild Award-winner, crime and SF writer Michael Marano will be offering a new class this fall on "Writing the Smart Page-Turner" at Grub Street, Inc., a non-profit creative writing center dedicated to nurturing writers and connecting readers with the wealth of writing talent in the Boston area. The class is geared for writers who work in all kinds of genres, from SF/Fantasy to Romance to Suspense/Thrillers to just about any other genre you can name, and is designed to help authors find their own distinct literary voice while working within those genres. Classes, which will meet over 10 Thursday nights from 7 - 10 PM in downtown Boston, will also be dedicated to practical concerns, like finding the right publishing venues to send your work, and how to work with editors and agents. **An overview of the course topics and readings can be found here**. For more information, contact Marano directly at profmike AT mindspring DOT com


"Mike knows what makes a great story. In his classes, he shares selections from his enormous library of references – novels of all types, TV shows, movie scripts – to showcase powerful writing techniques. He gives detailed, perceptive feedback to student writing. He holds us to the integrity of our stories, to say what we mean to say."--Carolyn R., former student.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
This week's listings are up, including some controversial-looking films on pornography - and genuine sexuality - being shown for free.

The article about STIs and the stigma surrounding them even in "evolved" alternative sexuality communities is up and awaiting commentary and shared stories.

Your humble author weighs in on why it can be so hard to maintain friendships when you have multiple romantic relationships to manage, and offers some suggestions.

What would you like to see an article about?
kitchen_kink: (Default)
I know I've done this a few times before, but bear with me, especially if I missed your explanation the last time.

I don't know if this will change the numbers much, but I'd like to do my periodic "who are you people" thing for those I perceive have friended me whom I don't recognize. So. Who are you:

[livejournal.com profile] any_contingency?
[livejournal.com profile] ashlupa?
[livejournal.com profile] cinnabarine?
[livejournal.com profile] crownedclown?
[livejournal.com profile] derspatchel?
[livejournal.com profile] dicea?
[livejournal.com profile] elisabattagda?
[livejournal.com profile] evil_eddy?
[livejournal.com profile] fantasyscribe?
[livejournal.com profile] funkabonzo?
[livejournal.com profile] gothatfunk?
[livejournal.com profile] harmony_random?
[livejournal.com profile] hotpoint?
[livejournal.com profile] insane_violet?
[livejournal.com profile] jmarquiso?
[livejournal.com profile] kayakman?
[livejournal.com profile] lediva?
[livejournal.com profile] llama_anorak?
[livejournal.com profile] lobolance?
[livejournal.com profile] megastoat?
[livejournal.com profile] montacute?
[livejournal.com profile] myrddin7?
[livejournal.com profile] nemorensis?
[livejournal.com profile] nimocynth?
[livejournal.com profile] packbat?
[livejournal.com profile] phaedra_lari?
[livejournal.com profile] pixieblush47?
[livejournal.com profile] psybelle?
[livejournal.com profile] shibarismurf?
[livejournal.com profile] silly_imp?
[livejournal.com profile] wanderingangel?
[livejournal.com profile] willblue?

Keep in mind that identifying yourself won't necessarily get me friending you; I'm trying to be a bit more circumspect about that these days, keeping friends locked posts within a tighter circle. If you notice that I unfriend you over the next little while, or that I don't friend you after you tell me who you are, I hope you won't be offended - since my online presence has become more public and my name now has associations with this journal, I'm working on a tighter lockdown of the more personal stuff.
kitchen_kink: (srsly)
Okay, so I'm hoping to get the perspective of some people of color over in a post I made that's friendslocked. So far it's a festival of whiteness, and I'm afraid that if it goes on much longer, any POC who might have felt like commenting are just going to laugh at me/wander off muttering frustratedly to themselves.

One of the issues, of course, is my friends list. Wow, do I know a lot of white people. Sometimes it occurs to me how few POC I have in my life, and it bugs me. I mean, historically, I have a hard time making friends. But these days...well, I'm a little better at it. You'd think that I'd therefore have a better representation across my LJ-friends list (admittedly, not all people I know in real life or talk to that frequently) than 13 out of 275. (And that's counting generously.) Is it simply a question of numbers in the subcultures I travel in? (Partially, to be sure.) Am I less comfortable approaching POC for friendships than I am white people? (Probably, which bears a boatload of examination.) Do the POC I do know lack LJ accounts? (Maybe.) Are there people I'm forgetting to count? (It took me a second to remember and register that one of my friends is Filipino-American, and a few more to wonder if that counts, and a few more to wonder if he thinks of himself as a POC...)

Obviously I'm thinking a bunch about this stuff lately.

Anyway, if you are on my friends list, are a POC and aren't already terminally frustrated with the comments, please comment on this post, if you're so inclined.

Friends list maintenance currently underway.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
I just went through my friendslist for the first time in, I dunno, years? I removed people who either:

-have unfriended me for some reason
-I realize I barely know
-I don't read, and suspect they aren't reading me.

Nothing personal here, but I realize that I have a crapload of friends, and if I'm going to lock most of my posts anyway, I might as well have some control over who they are.

If you notice you've been unfriended and want to ask me about it, comment here!

Similarly, I notice a lot of people have friended me, and I haven't added you back because I don't know who you are. Pipe up, please - I can't guarantee I'll add you, but if I know who you are, there's a better chance.

Gratitude

Aug. 15th, 2009 11:35 pm
kitchen_kink: (mercenary)
Today I'm grateful for friends who help you carry air conditioners up from the basement.
kitchen_kink: (words)
Hey everyone,

My good friend Mike Marano is running writing workshops at Grub Street these days, and asked me to signal boost his upcoming class in genre fiction. He's a great writer, a great teacher and a great guy - I highly recommend. Do check it out - and forward to your friends!

***
ChiZine Fiction Editor, Stoker and International Horror Guild Award-winning horror and SF writer Michael Marano will be offering a new class on "The Art of Genre" at Grub Street, Inc., a non-profit creative writing center dedicated to nurturing writers and connecting readers with the wealth of writing talent in the Boston area. Grub's mission is to support creative writers at all stages of their development so that they can achieve their goals of publication, social and professional networking, gainful employment in the field, and/or personal enrichment. Details are below. For more information, contact Grub Street via their web site here.

The Art of Genre
Using the unreal in your fiction offers unique opportunities to break fresh, new ground. This class will help hone the tools you'll need to write genre fiction--be it science fiction, fantasy, or horror--with a distinctly literary bent. In addition to the weekly workshopping of short stories and novel fragments, students will be given a background on the genres' histories and their respective subgenres, strategies for using surrealism and postmodernism in their work, approaches to using "real world" research as a way to flesh out otherworldly settings and narratives, and ways to use the unreal as a tool to make metaphoric statements that can only be articulated with fantastic trappings. Other topics covered will be strategies for marketing your work, techniques for idea generating, and protocols for developing their work with the help of editors and agents. The goal is to give you a solid grounding in the demands of fantastic fiction, and a better understanding of literary potential of your favorite genres.

$425/$400 members
10 Sundays in Boston, 6pm – 9pm. Begins January 18th
Instructor: Michael Marano
Registration Deadline: January 13th
kitchen_kink: (snow)
Last year's Yule celebration was raucous and crowded - kids running everywhere, adults playing instruments and telling stories in front of the fire. Our ritual was disrupted a thousand times by the needs and tired behaviors of children. I was exhausted and getting sick, and didn't have a particularly good time tripping over people and feeling a general sense of holiday overwhelm.

In ritual I managed to make a number of commitments, and going over them this year, I found that I'd done rather well at several of them, and abjectly failed at certain others. The lessons of the ones I failed in, however, led me to wiser commitments this year - or so I hope.

There was also the setting of the ritual to guide me. This year, Tapestry Coven decided to have its ritual at our house, hours before the vigil began. We gathered around the living room, by the Christmas tree. There I commited to take more consistent care of my body, to fully engage in whatever creative pursuit I was passionate about at the moment rather than beat myself up for not writing enough, to find the right home for my family, and to step forward more in my spiritual work.

It is enough, and it feels right. They are quiet and humble goals, but good ones.

Last night's vigil, or what I experienced of it, was a quiet and humble vigil, but a good one. Many fewer people than last year. Children less wound up and wandering toward sleep. A steady fire, knitting, reading, telling stories. And [livejournal.com profile] imlad and I left a little after 2 am, ready to sleep in our own beds and let other witches mind the waking of the sun.

As if to put an exclamation point on our observances, the Solstice weekend arrived with a major winter storm, ensconcing everything in snow. I performed two Christmas concerts, divorced from the specific spiritual observance of the season but moved to soft tears by the power of the music, and the voice of our incredible soloist. The weather pulled in the die-hards, to experience great music in fellowship against the cold and the dark.

Tonight I write this, snug by my Christmas tree on Yule night, cuddling a creature in my lap who is close to death. We huddle together for warmth, for love, for beauty. The specifics, the prayers, the gods, don't matter as much. In the gathering dark, we all reach for the light.

Warmth, light, love and beauty to you all this holiday season.

Gratitude

Aug. 12th, 2008 12:59 am
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Today I'm grateful that I finally figured out that the thing to do is to plot out all of my activities for the day on Google calendar, with time allocated for each one. It's not necessarily that I keep to the strict schedule I lay out, but it does mean that I know what needs doing and I'm usually right about how long it'll take, and if things need to be switched around then I can switch them around, and if I don't get something done I'm not too worried because hey, look at all the other things I got done!!

This is, like, obvious to most people, right?

I'm also really grateful for [livejournal.com profile] xaydie and her darling husband for taking me in last night, feeding me, and showing me silly cartoons. It was a great way to spend a lazy evening.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Musicians in my friends list...

It seems to me that in the late Romantic and especially 20th century is where you can start to hear musicians taking almost orchestrated "breaths" in non-vocal music.

Discuss.
kitchen_kink: (spiral)
From [livejournal.com profile] queen_of_wands:

Elements of Magic in Boston (Somerville)

A Weekend Intensive with Sarah, Sierra, & John
Friday, September 28 - Sunday, September 30

Magic is the art of changing consciousness at will. In this class we empower ourselves to make change in the world by working with Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. Techniques include visualization, sensing and projecting energy, chanting, trance, sacred movement, creating magical space, spell-craft, and structuring rituals. Elements of Magic is a core workshop in the Reclaiming Tradition of Witchcraft (http://www.reclaiming.org). You do not need to be part of this tradition to participate. Group experience happens in the framework of feminist consensus process. We hope to provide a fair and nurturing environment for all participants. The workshop is suitable both as an introduction to Witchcraft for seekers, and as an introduction to Reclaiming practice for more experienced practitioners.


Details and registration form. )
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Hi, all,

My friends list, it occurs to me, has gotten out of control, and while I was away I met a bunch of new people to add.

So, as people do from time to time, I've effected a pruning.

If I've dropped you, it's probably because we haven't talked in forever, and it's very likely that you already dropped me.

If I haven't added you back, it's either because I don't know/trust you enough, or because I have no idea who you are! If you notice I haven't added you back and you think I should know who you are, let me know! If we haven't met in person, though, it's unlikely, still, that I'll add you back.

Then there's my default view. Even when I keep people on my friends list, I don't read everyone there - it'd take forever. But I leave you on because so many of my posts are locked, and I'm happy to have you read them if you are so inclined.

I've just changed up my default view and do so periodically, so sometimes I'll be reading you and sometimes not. So it goes!

Love to all.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Having good friends that love you and whom you love and can trust is one sign of a life being lived fully. But having no enemies may be a sign you are doing something wrong.

Discuss.

ETA: See comments for some clarification of the above.
kitchen_kink: (wedding)
It's been over three weeks, and it's probably time for me to post about the wedding, before the events lose all of their freshness, before I forget a day that was, all cliches aside, the happiest of my life to date.

I should probably begin, in typical narrative fashion, with all of the things that went wrong leading up to it. Everyone talks about how all weddings are just small disasters that somehow come together in the end, and I'd gone into the wedding pretty much viewing it as a huge show I was opening on October 7. I've acted, directed, stage and assistant stage managed, costume designed, and participated in just about every aspect of theatre production, and I know what it's like to put on a show. My favorite thing in the wonderful film Shakespeare in Love is the theatre manager's continued insistence that when everything finally comes together, "It's a mystery." I know only too well the truth of this: pretty much every show I've worked on has been hanging by a thread a week before opening, with everyone stressed to their limits and mortified that it's going to be a total disaster.

This production was no exception; in fact, it was probably the worst I've experienced in this regard. Add to it that fact that along with [livejournal.com profile] imlad, I was acting as producer, director, and lead actress, and it would be difficult for my stress level to be higher. I don't want to dwell on the negative, but to give a sample, I'll cite just a few of the events of Friday, the day before the wedding:

1. I was still waiting for the FedEx truck to bring the final pieces of everybody's clothing from Colorado.
2. When [livejournal.com profile] imlad picked the programs up from the printers, all of the pages were in the wrong order.
3. I picked up my dress, which had been worked on very quickly and thoroughly, that morning, then went across the street to find a dress that would fit [livejournal.com profile] entrope and match the color scheme.
4. Given all of that, we did not arrive on site until well into the dark hours of the evening, when we had intended to arrive around 2pm.

Add to this that my ring was not delivered until the Wednesday before (they broke it twice trying to make it), the store that was supposed to order the clothes [livejournal.com profile] imlad was going to wear never bothered to do it, the linens cost more than twice what I was quoted and my dear friend who was going to do my hair and makeup got food poisoning the morning of the wedding day, and by the time of the ceremony, I was nothing but a huge ball of walking nerves.

Huge, I tell you.

But in the midst of this, there was [livejournal.com profile] zzbottom, who bought food for Friday night's barbecue and acted as head chef, then, along with his girlfriend, set all the tables on Saturday morning. There was [livejournal.com profile] macthud, who loomed in that incredibly calming way he has and lisped at me to make me laugh and feel like a princess. There was [livejournal.com profile] wurmwyd, who was ready to do anything needed, and also did a spectacular job looking after my mother. There was [livejournal.com profile] imvfd, who just took care of all kinds of things almost invisibly. There were the silk monkeys who showed up and provided the most spectacular show and equipment for people - it added so much. There were my official officiants, [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse and [livejournal.com profile] _cazador, and the wonderful addition, [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves, who made everything happen, ceremony-wise, without me having to think about it. There were all the attendants, who did everything imaginable to keep me sane. There was [livejournal.com profile] shu_al, who did more than I thought possible to keep the entire operation running. And [livejournal.com profile] sunspiral, guiding the crowd with his fine heraldic presence, and [livejournal.com profile] jirikido, moving silently and making things happen. So many people to thank that I can only begin here, and hope that I can include everyone by the end of this already lengthy post.

And then, there was the wedding.

At 2pm on Saturday, October 7, the stated start time of the ceremony, I was sitting in a chair in the bathroom of the Lodge, having my hair done. Darling D showed up, looking pale, and while I had to take care of my makeup myself, she managed a quick and magnificent 'do incorporating [livejournal.com profile] ayalanya's magnificent headpiece. We were running late, just to add to the stress, but as I watched myself in the mirror and fretted, the vision I had had of myself as bride began, at last, to come together. Quite suddenly I felt that I looked almost perfect, and as that moment of rightness washed over me, I had a chance to get nervous. I had been so consumed up until that point with the concern that everything wouldn't happen properly that I hadn't had a chance to reflect on what I was about to do.

And so, I breathed.

D left for the audience, and I walked out of the bathroom. [livejournal.com profile] shu_al's husband was standing there, waiting to give the signal. It was about 20 minutes past 2.

I looked out the door into the field and saw the circle of chairs. I saw the attendants waiting with their elemental representations. I saw [livejournal.com profile] imlad, my love, standing at one far corner, his anachronistic finery waving in the wind.

And in the center of the circle, my friends were dancing.

The drummers, who were there to raise energy and accompany the firespinners, had begun playing. [livejournal.com profile] regyt was spinning bright gold flags. [livejournal.com profile] water_childe, [livejournal.com profile] danceboy and [livejournal.com profile] dreams_of_wings, among others, were dancing in the circle. As I looked, [livejournal.com profile] dreams_of_wings was being lifted into the sunlight to the sound of drums and spontaneous singing.

In that moment, and in every moment after that and since, I could not have been more moved, grateful, and thrilled to be a part of the community that was there around me. Their love, their joy, their effort, their participatory spirit would not even allow them to be bored waiting for a late ceremony to start: they found a way to begin celebrating right away. In that moment, I knew that everything was going to be perfect. And I wished, as I did many other times that day, that the rest of my family were there.

The message was conveyed and the circle grew silent as people returned to their seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. I propped the door slightly so that I could hear the choir sing. They broke beautifully into Delius' "To Be Sung of a Summer Night on the Water," a wordless expression of ethereal pastoral joy, as the officiants cast. It was a mighty circle they made: I could feel it from where I was.

Then, a moment of silence before the processional. The choir sang "The Heart's Cry," and the attendants, with their elements, processed from the four directions, one pair at a time. The piece ended, and [livejournal.com profile] imlad and I ended up entering the circle in the small space of silence that followed: it seemed somehow appropriate. As I approached the edge of the circle, shaking, grinning my face off, trying not to cry, holding my grandfather's letter that he wrote to my grandmother from the Air Force when my mother was born, [livejournal.com profile] imvfd stood up, and the whole crowd followed. Joy burst in me. I approached the altar, and took [livejournal.com profile] imlad's hand.

[livejournal.com profile] danceboy, invoking the Fey, leapt and flipped and pinched me and kissed the groom and broke the solemnity of the moment in exactly the way we hoped he would, and the spell was not broken but intensified.

[livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse's invocation of the Star Goddess was one of the most powerful magical things I have felt; I'm sure the choir's haunting, quiet chant of "You Who Open the Vault of Heaven" helped. [livejournal.com profile] _cazador invoked the Boatman, and the usual heavy, dark, forbidding and loving presence entered our midst. And we were ready to do the work.

My lovely bridesmaids. The handsome groomsmen. They stepped forward one by one and offered such beautiful blessings and readings that I was overwhelmed. I was so happy to be able to involve them in a way that was more than simple witnessing, and I don't think I imagined what beauty they would bring.

We accepted the Boatman's challenge, and drew two cards, whose meaning we have still to divine.

Then came the charging of the rings. We wanted to involve everyone in this process, and so [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves taught the chant, and encouraged everyone who felt called to to join in with the choir in singing, and to dance, too, if they wished.

The chant began. The drums started. And then, everyone started to stand up.

The spiral dance that [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse had wanted somewhere in our ceremony happened spontaneously, joyously, beautifully, and in lieu of a receiving line, I got a chance to look into the eyes of nearly everyone at the wedding as they passed, as we spiraled toward the center and out again, as we raised our voices and our bodies toward sending good vibes toward those wedding bands. I could hardly believe that it happened as it did; I'm still marveling at the pictures. I'm still marveling, too, at [livejournal.com profile] bbbsg, whom a guest I did not know drew into the dance in her wheelchair. I think I almost shouted as she passed in the spiral, dancing with the rest of us, smiling in wonder.

Finally, we read our vows. We decided to write one short text and have both of us read it, changing only the names and husband/wife designations. [livejournal.com profile] imlad got through it solemnly, with a kind of choked up grace. I got to the end before I broke and said the last words, "and maintain a constancy of the highest devotion for as long as I live," in a sobbing cadence, then laughed as I couldn't get the ring on his finger. [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse bound our hands and pronounced us married, we kissed the way you do, and the choir sang [livejournal.com profile] sen_no_ongakyu's incredible new piece. Then, drumming by [livejournal.com profile] _cazador, [livejournal.com profile] macthud, [livejournal.com profile] greendalek and the aforementioned composer, with firespinning by [livejournal.com profile] regyt and [livejournal.com profile] buxom_bey, during which everyone sat silently and watched, though they were encouraged to join in dancing.

At the end, though, applause and cheering broke out, the wedding party escaped to photographs, and our guests started the party without us.

Pictures and a few minutes at the Lodge after the photographs tell me that a veritable circus took place there before dinner: silks trapezing, hula-hooping, contact improv dancing, labyrinth-walking ([livejournal.com profile] pheromone actually brought a portable labyrinth!), sangria-drinking (thank you, [livejournal.com profile] tisana!) and munching happened simultaneously.

Dinner was a blur of hellos and hugs and tears and love and excellent food (which [livejournal.com profile] imlad and I wisely enjoyed before everyone else came in to dinner), provided by [livejournal.com profile] deadwinter, [livejournal.com profile] fanw, [livejournal.com profile] doze_e_fish, [livejournal.com profile] rosif3r, and non-LJ Andi. The hall looked lovely (thanks ever, [livejournal.com profile] lifecollage and [livejournal.com profile] doeeyedbunny, who couldn't be there, for the favors, and [livejournal.com profile] rule30 for the decor help), the wine flowed, people stuck leaf-shaped confetti to their foreheads, the music rocked (thank you, Nutz and Dex!), and, strangely, everything went according to plan, only better.

The night wore on, the cake was cut, people started to leave, and then everyone carried the candles from the tables back up to the Lodge. There was a bonfire, more dancing, psytrance, and mostly low-key merriment well into the night, and I felt over and over again rocked in the arms of my loving community.

I want to make a couple of things clear before I end this far-too-long chronicle.

One: if you haven't been directly named here, it is oversight and not ingratitude. Oh, how I love, and how I endlessly thank, every one of you that was there that day.

Two: I don't think I ever fully realized, until that day, the extent of this community's love, support, and commitment to me, to [livejournal.com profile] imlad, and to our union. I don't know if I'll ever stop being profoundly moved by all of you, and by how I felt that day, seeing the way you all made everything happen. There's a part of me, that childish part that's still the little girl nobody is friends with, who still can never quite believe that so many amazing people could ever be more to her than casual acquaintances - or, on worse days, that they're not thinking or saying bad things about her when she's not around. If I'm ever cold or distant, or quiet, if I ever disappear for a time, if I ever seem difficult to reach or hard to be close to, that's why.

And for the first time, at this event, I felt the full force of how much you all care for me, and us, and for each other, and the totality. I felt open to love of all varieties and levels in a way I never had before. I felt, if this makes any sense at all, that the event itself was a vindication of everything I've wanted my life to be: you all made it possible, and made it real. And I didn't shy away from anyone, because I knew you were all here for us, and I could finally feel, without doubts and insecurities, the full measure of your love.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for that, forever.

And for those of you who were invited and couldn't be there: we missed you. We love you. And thank you.

And go here for some pictures (thank you, [livejournal.com profile] mangosteen, [livejournal.com profile] rule30, and [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves!):
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Thursday

Western Union, my bank, and the strength of my heart.

Friday

Long walks that end at Crate & Barrel. Watching jewelry form from a designer's brain. Motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane.

Saturday

Camp Burgess, which is just so damned beautiful. Having amazing friends to talk to when I'm stuck in traffic. Rio's mischievous smile. ("Rio cute!")

Sunday

Powerful rituals. Even though I'm not entirely sure what I did during it, I know it was deep and hungry work, mainly evidenced by the metric fuckton of food I ate after it.

My coven, and the work we're embarked on. We sat down after rit (when it's usually close to 11pm and we're exhausted), ate at a normal dinnertime, and basically planned out the entire next year. Rock.

Waffles with vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg, crispy bacon, and the awesome people who made them for us.
kitchen_kink: (eggplant)
The farmer's market. Oh, organic local peaches. Oh, the start of heirloom tomato season. Fresh small lettuces, samples of watermelon, goat cheese in oil with mediterranean herbs and the cute boy in the ethical society t-shirt manning the Breadsong booth, who smiled so lingering at me when I bought a baguette from him. More than that, though, the incredible feeling of spirit there, the people of the earth, so close, coming together and bringing us real food, right around the corner from my house. When I'm there I'm both so grateful that I live here, and so excited that someday, I might live in California where this happens all year long.

Free Shakespeare in the park. Year after year. Richly produced, innovatively acted, and better every year. Yes, Taming of the Shrew continues to be highly problematic as a text. But this production...it's a good 'un.

Being someone you talk to about your problems. I'm so grateful for the ability to both listen and hear, and maybe even to help, sometimes.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
As you might recall, some days before the day known to some only as "Christmas" (if that's it's real name), I was struck by the sock elves. After much package opening and crack detective work, I have solved the mystery.

But not before a great deal of poetic mayhem had ensued. Thank god no one was hurt.

First came the fuzzy purple sock, all alone, muppet-like and unadorned.

Next, the rainbow striped toe sock, with the following mystifying message:

winter wind blows cold
safely nestled in rainbow
the cozy toes rejoice


An innocent enough message, you might think. Perhaps even friendly. But the intrigue continued.

A sparkly, thin trouser sock appeared next, again in the same cool-hued wrapping paper. This fairy was slick.

feet, oft neglected
sigh and pine for adornment
sparkle, princess foot!


I began to sense we were dealing with some kind of foot worship cult here. I couldn't be sure just yet, but my footy sense told me that something here smelled.

Next came another trouser sock, purple striped, with the sticker, "Space Knit" on it, shaped like the prototypical flying saucer. Stranger and stranger, and just a whiff closer to the truth:

purple striped socks
extraterrestrial made
enjoy on the ground


There it was, I thought, at last the clue I'd been searching for. Clearly this was the agent of some extraterrestrial civilization that held feet up as their gods. Human feet. I could only guess what would happen next, but I feared a ritual sacrifice of some sort.

Sure enough, the next day a white-leopard printed sock appeared, complete with pale blue toes.

jungle noises ring
a sock stalked through green fronds
now presented with love


Could it be that it wasn't feet they would sacrifice, but socks? Could it be that in their culture, socks were living beings, stalked and massacred to appease their misplaced gods?

The next day, tragedy struck.

happy yellow ducks
float on cerulean sock
cheer for chilly feet


A blue sock, speckled with the grisly image of yellow duckies. Who knows what they'd been through before being slaughtered. Cheer for feet, indeed, but what about the socks who had to suffer?

I waited and waited for the other sock to drop. Surely there would be repurcussions, a revelation, some kind of meaning to all of this madness! But I received only another expression of slavish loyalty to the foot-and-sock cult:

oh majestic sock
in you are met the colors
black and crimson red


Black with the horror of death. Red with the blood of innocents. And very, very, very snuggly.

I couldn't sleep. The ghosts of the lone socks haunted my dreams, their mates tramping alone through vast wildernesses, crying out for succor. Beneath my Christmas tree, the lone socks writhed, wailed, and I woke, sweating, my feet cold and unadorned.

I thought surely madness would take me.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. On my doorstep, a large box, rather than a small package. I barely dared open it; I was breathless as I tore the paper, certain that this, at last, would be the solution I had awaited.

I peeled back the tissue paper protecting the creature inside. I at once recognized the knitted remains of the mates of all of the socks I had heretofore received, twisted in a kind of cultish agony, forced into a vague representation of the god to whom I now, nay, all of you, must pay allegience...

No, not Chthulu... )
kitchen_kink: (Default)
It looks like Sockmas has struck, and I couldn't be more pleased. Or mystified.

For the past few days, small packages, each in the same sparkly lavender, silver and pale blue metallic wrapping, have appeared on my doorstep with my mail. The current tally:

One very fuzzy and loveable purple sock
One very sparkly thin purple sock
One rainbow-striped toe sock
One very fuzzy red and black striped sock
Three haiku about said socks

Note the number "one" before each socklike item. I also wonder why the fuzzy purple sock has no haiku attached.

Lone, fuzzy, purple
The first sock I received, in
Knitted mystery.

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dietrich

April 2013

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