I’ve added some new pages from my last visual journal to the photo album there on the left and also made a Mailart album. The photos in the Mailart album will be rotating frequently. For now, they are mostly pieces from a couple of years ago.
I admire their geometrical patience,
the tidy way they wrap up leftovers,
their willingness to be the earth’s
most diligent consumers of small bitternesses.
Sometimes at night I hear them
casting silk threads, clicking their spinnerets,
plucking their webs like blind Irish harpists.
I can almost taste the fruit of the fly
like sucking the pulp from a grape.
But when their webs on the ceiling
begin to converge, and the floor
glitters with shards of insect wings
I drag out the vacuum
and poke its terrible snout under the sofa,
behind the radio—everywhere,
for this is the home of a human being
and I must act like one
or the whole picture goes haywire.
by Charles Goodrich, from Insects of South Corvallis
Lately my garage has gone haywire because several giant black widows with their red-spotted bellies have spun thick silver climbing lines up to the rafters. They’ve woven smaller webs to snare flies and other insects. Makes things interesting when I go inside to do laundry or retrieve stencils hanging from every available hook and knob. I was almost convinced that enough was enough the other day. I was going to put my foot down and show those big black arachnids who’s the boss. But that was before I saw this poem. I know I should act like a human being, but it would be such a shame to have those thick trapeze wires go to waste.
I’ve been on Mailart Hiatus, but today I brought out the big guns and whipped up these cut up book covers. I’m always on the lookout for free books at the library. Picked up this big stack of outdated reference periodicals over a month ago. Since I hate having stuff laying around my itty bitty studio that I don’t use I decided to spray every last one of them. They’ll sail out of here sometime next week. Maybe headed to a mailbox near YOU.
This is the new Lucinda Williams CD. Believe me when I say it’s G O O D. The inside cover has a herd of galloping horses which is always a good sign. If you don’t dig gravely-voiced women who have a drunken quality to their singing you might not appreciate my recommendation.
The cat posse was put outside so I could have some ME time, with Lucinda and the new ARtful Blogging magazine I picked up today (fabulous!). I don’t know why I bother. They just sit on the table right next to the windows and bray like a couple of mad donkeys.
I just made posy gets cozy’s buttermilk poundcake.
I am going to have to re-name this poundcake though…
This is now going to be called:
…”The Buttermilk Poundcake That Dad Came Back To Earth For”….
because we just sat down and had a piece of it together. I had mine with coffee, he had a piece of cold fried chicken on the side with his. I am not kidding. We both licked our plates when we were done and he said “that was lip smacking good sissy boo, give me a holler when you make it again and I’ll be back for more”. I bundled him up a few pieces and put it in a shoe box for him.
this is a true story