One of the largest collections of my ceramic works is within these walls. I am a houseguest here for another fourteen hours or so. My host acquired my works through purchase at various art shows and art sales, but mostly through my gifting of them. She has given them a good home.
Here are a few of them:
Properly cared for, ceramic creations can last thousands of years. It gives me a peculiar comfort to know that some things of mine are receiving proper care.
It’s been a wonderful day, and now it’s time for bed: the 30th became the 31st. Good night, Night Owls!
…and they are correct. I was delivered by Caesarian section fifty-nine years ago by A. Franklin, M.D. of Daniel Freeman Memorial Hospital in Inglewood, California. Two women brought me into the world: the A was for Ann or Anne (my memory is a bit sketchy).
The photo above was taken where I now type, the Burton Barr Library in Phoenix, Arizona. I came here from up north in Cottonwood expressly to see the play RENT with my beloved daughter Katharine, whom everyone calls Kate. That will be at the Phoenix Theatre, easy walking distance from here.
The drawing I hold is the one my readers most told me to complete (see previous post “More from the Unfinished Vault”). It is of Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth dancing with great joy, or, at the very least, seeming to.
Rattling the rafters & raising the roof
Intricate steps is the way of the hoofer
Train with your partner till you got it made
AH to be DANCING unfettered unstayed
So far this birthday has been great fun. I hope to make another post before the day is done.
I am far from home, the houseguest of a dear friend. I am not scan-capable now, but my phone camera works all right. I like the ancient-manuscript feel of this image, and the notion that modern archeologists like you will peruse it for clues.
Last November I participated in National Novel Writing Month. I wrote over fifty thousand words under the title AULD LANG SYNAPSE, which was about the creation and use of nanotechnologized dust that made it possible for people to switch bodies via wireless synaptic exchange. The novel is still a disorganized, unfocused mess, but I liked a minor character who called himself the Mighty Eater of Food, and here I make a superhero out of him. (EATING as a superpower? You think that’s ridiculous? I invite you to do an internet search on Matter-Eater Lad, late of the Legion of Super-Heroes.)
Lately I’ve been dwelling on my own struggles with weight control (“Belly-Worshipper!” I trash-talk myself with scornful “stinkin thinkin”), and recently wrote a mock children’s song called “Gobble Gobble Gobble.” This is part of that tapestry.
I threw in an additional challenge to my triple-acrosticization, and demanded that each line contain a pun on a color. Why? Well, it’s my contention that many art innovations are arbitrary and/or newness for the sake of newness. But once you decide to do it, do it as best you can.
EH! Don’t want to con-fuschia
EW! I’ll TEAL ya–let’s climb
Now! Rosed Tuckling is crucial
NEXT: to Beiging–sub-Lime
In the Quantum Multiverse, some of me have done some of these. A minuscule percentage have done all of them. But I only have so much lifetime, and the most I can say for sure about the me who is talking now, in this universe, is that ONE of these will be done by midnight Friday.
Which one? Please tell me, because I really don’t know…
This li'l fella was sculpted in two hours on February 22nd, 2007. I was in a ceramics class taught by the wondrous Jan Peterson, daughter of Susan. It was a "draw from the hat" assignment, and I drew FIGURE WALKING UP STAIRS. I miss that class, and miss Jan!
Behold a Fat Old Guy With Happy Feet On His First Day Of Vacation.
C’est moi, Friends!
They fly and crawl and jump, sting and bite and pinch, buzz and chirp and hum. They are a nuisance and a test. We have much to learn from them.
Wayfaring without a brain to speak of is so stark
Hum & chirp & whine & buzz & swarm till heavens darken
Ants & hornets, EARWIGS, gnats–survivors go go go
There’s a subtle wisdom in the chase avoid & sow
My last post invited readers to e-mail me if they wanted the words to the poem behind the eponymous Love Birds. I sat back and waited, eager to respond to the flood of requests. Alas, I got not a one, not even from–sob–my Girlfriend. [sad face]
Humbling experiences build character. I am perhaps too puffed up/showoffy, or too much, to use my daughter’s charming locution, the Attention Whore. But it drives my creativity, and creativity is just about all I have to offer to civilization and posterity.
So, folks, as you never requested, here is the cheat sheet on the strict-character acrostic poem I wrote as backdrop:
This also reveals acrostic methodology. FIRST, decide on the acrostic; SECOND, decide on the rhyming (or near-rhyming, as in this case) words at the ends of the lines. THEN write one of the lines of poetry, and do a character grid that exactly maps that line. (It doesn’t have to be the first line, and truth is, it’s often easier to acrosticize if you don’t.) Then write the rest of the poem, and have your eraser handy.
Bonus (?) feature: here’s an example of my sign-making layout skills, with my workplace and the cause we evented de-identified: