Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Pour a little out...

for a [soon to be ex] homie.

Slammy's moving out. Frankly, he lasted longer than I expected, though, in reality, he's hardly ever here; and when he is here, he doesn't acknowledge anyone in the household. It's been a bit like living on the set of The Others.

In honor of his departure, I offer this Letter Never Sent that was part of a Metachat thread several months back.

Hi! How are you? I am fine. Do you mind if I call you 'Slammy'...? No? That's wonderful, thanks!

Slammy, you are a mystery to me. How is it that you can slam your door so hard that the pictures in my room - two rooms away in a sturdy early 1900's Victorian - shake on the walls and yet remain catergorically unable to close the front door, the back door, pantry doors, or microwave door? And let's not get started on the lights, the bathroom fan or the gas heater that you would turn on full blast, while leaving the wind tunnel from the open front and back doors in full effect, but slamming your door repeatedly (further nullifying the warming effect of the heater on you) for what I can assume would be shits and giggles.

We know you're here, now pipe down. If you open it, close it - preferrably like a sane and well adjusted adult - and put on a fucking sweater, already.

Slammy, I'm not really going to miss you, but I have truly appreciated your capacity for the unique. Best of luck, Prince Charming!

Tuesday, June 27, 2006


I received the incredibly happy news today that this extraordinary little boy has a sibling on the way. In life's inimitable way of, this news was followed by further details and couched in an earnest, if understated, request as is the nature of the author:

All efforts are to carry this pregnancy longer than the 27 weeks I carried Miles. Currently at 23, I don't feel like I can take any chances. I don't know how many of you have spent any time in a NICU, but from my time there, I know that even for 27 weeks, we were extremely fortunate with Miles. Babes born before 26 weeks are beyond extremely fragile, and those that do survive do so usually with lifelong complications and conditions. The possibility scares the hell out me.

Assuming I carry as long as 32 weeks (a full 2 months from now) and that my condition doesn't drastically change, my restrictions would lessen at that time. Of course after two months in bed, I won't be able to do too much, will I Mark? I’m desperately trying to remember, and I don’t always, that this sudden inactivity is an effort to stay out of the hospital.

So here I am, occasionally moving from the bed to the couch, from the couch to the bed when I get up to use the bathroom. Nic has become my personal assistant, caretaker, and cook and Miles' primary parent for the remainder of this pregnancy. I am gradually arranging full time care for Miles while Nic is at work. Thankfully I had scheduled two full weeks of work for myself (huge project at work that was to wrap up in another 5 weeks), so I had sitters lined up for two weeks already.
I am continually vacillating between this being a relaxing vacation and the longest, most disempowering period of my life. We'd love to have thoughts, prayers, good wishes and positive energy sent our direction.

It's difficult to be this far away from loved ones when fears are high and calamity strikes. And the fact is that, even if I was there, there's little I could do at this stage of the game. What I can do, though, is ask that if anyone has a spare prayer [or four], burst of positivity, etc to please send some their way. Mom and baby, especially, but the whole family, they can use as much as they can get.

Thank you so very, very much.

All my Frisbee affection.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Monday, June 19, 2006

Snakes! On a plane!

Some things are simply too wonderfully absurd not to make one's day. Having followed this for the better part of a year, it's hard to logically express the silly glee that comes from hearing about the imminent opening date. That glee is second only to the fact that "New Line wisely decided to leave the title alone, and went on to embrace SoaP's fan base by adding five extra days of shooting to amp up the film's over-the-top elements and, per fan requests, letting Jackson deliver a line about "m -- snakes on the m -- plane."


[This post, with utmost affection, dedicated to mudpuppie. Muthafuckin' snakes! On a muthafuckin' plane, sister!]

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Beautiful things

Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.
-Ricky Fitts, American Beauty

Perhaps video isn't such a poor excuse. Suddenly everything has changed, to quote the Flaming Lips. [Again.] New eyes. Learning to use a new language. So very much to learn, but I'm continually moved and inspired by the visions that others offer. Expression. So powerful.

Via cliptip, Lost In A Moment from shrift is gorgeously done. A sublime song alone, the video is wonderfully compelling.

Also via cliptip, Baby I from Amy Millan. Country angst at its best with a lush visual treatment. [This one appears to now not be in working form, but hopefully they'll get that sorted out, and soon. If you're a fan of the Neko Case set, check this lady out. She's great.]

Finally, though old, from the highly-Frisbee-revered and outrageously creative Underworld and the Tomato collective comes Jumbo. Starting with the endearing request for sugar that manages to be at once self-effacing and cheeky, to the images that unfold and perfectly match Rick Smith and Karl Hyde's inimitable talent for musically and lyrically marrying the archetypal, emotional and mundane in a way that makes it seem so obvious...perfection. I have a crush on this video.