Everything must rhyme

today,

 for everything has a beat.

Much too much walking

astray,

and too much time on feet.

Laden is an inert verb when laid upon your back, the eaves trough, a pine branch. Always it implies snow, at least at this latitude. I imagine you bent with the weight of my ardor as though two buckets of water hung from a pole across your back. Even the word is heavy and hard to drop from my tongue. Winter impending threatens to turn this water to ice and snap the branch of my respite.

Always do right.  This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.

Building a website is equivalent to being Sisyphus.  Gaa.

Hey-o, Wordletting was kind enough to publish me again (second page this time, baby, movin’ up in the world…).  Check out “Venus Grapefruit” because breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

There’s nothing like the threat of family coming to stay-over that makes one think about the cleanliness of one’s home.  That could go into the truth categories, but it remains a solid fact today.

So, to cleaning up the guestroom/my office.

This room serves two main purposes: to sleep guests & to have somewhere to put my library/writing books/write/do psychology quizzes, etc.

Somehow or another, this room became the breeding grounds of ’stuff’.  The weird thing about ’stuff’, it multiplies faster than rabbits, faster than speeding bullets, faster than Viagra..you get the point.  Another strange thing about stuff – it leaves behind waste in the form of dust bunnies or, as I’ve heard them also called, ghost turds.  Even if you move the ’stuff’, you know where the ’stuff’ has been.

The whole point of cleaning up, really, was to get one bookshelf over to sit beside his two brothers on another wall.  In the meantime, the were two buckets of recycling papers and a little bag of garbage ’stuff’ that went.  Beyond that, here’s some things you may discover when you rearrange the shelves:

• I own a lot more poetry books than I thought I did.  Considering how slender the volumes are, I have one whole shelf full!
• I have two copies of Vanity Fair.  One, though, was originally sold for 75 cents.  I have never read Vanity Fair.
• I have a new Compassion Child named Mango or something.  He has the same last name as the other Compassion Child whose mother removed him from the program, so I thought he was just using a nickname.  Nope.
• I found some old poems I wrote on paper…I do that sometimes when the computer is not in my pocket.
• I found some records of poems I published and had forgotten about.  I will try and link them up here sometime this week.
• I have a folder full of transfer credits, who knew?
• I own way too many journals…I never use journals.  I should.
• I didn’t find a copy of The Great Gatsby.  I thought I owned that.  Maybe I haven’t looked hard enough yet.
• I do have a desktop.  I do.
• I have a whack of plays but I don’t have A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  That’s something I should study in the future, having never read it. 
• I need to put photos into albums.
• I need somewhere to put photo albums.
• We should sell some of our older DVD movies.  Although looking at them I can’t see any I want to part with.
• I have a lot of dictionaries and thesauruses.
• I have trouble keeping pens handy.
• I love postcards (I have a quarter-wall full of framed cards).  I have about another 40 waiting to be framed.
• I am addicted to quotations and inspirational sayings.  Today’s card says, “A miracle is often the willingness to see the common in an uncommon way.”  I don’t know who this is attributed to as my mother gave me a networking board game and these were the cards inside.  Now they sit in a  Sucrets container on my desk.
• I have two friendly stuffed sharks looking down at me from atop my bookshelves.
• This rooms calms me, especially when it’s clean.

Running makes me feel like it’s okay that the earth has a tilt (as long as it is downhill).

I not trying to hope on the bandwagon of disgruntled 30+-somethings complaining, in general, about the overwhelming distractions of multiple technoligies today. 

For the most part, those between 30 and 100 are trying to stay in the current, texting (albeit more slowly), Facebooking, and Tweeting on Twitter.  They don’t seem to like it much, but they’re trying…and complaining.  Like me, I suppose.  But I’m trying not to get on that bandwagon, remember?

I’m all for technology and I’m certainly for being connected and communication with one another.  Here’s my question: are we recording our lives, or living them?  And, if we are recording, who is taking note?  Furthermore – how is this recorded ‘history’ seperated into what is important and not important?  Who determines that?

I suppose that’s a lot more than one question.

One last question then:  if everyone’s opinion is equally important, who makes the final decision?

Feel free to comment.  I must let you know that since is my blog, I am the most important person in this room.  (And I’m usually the only person in this room, so…).

As far as I can tell from watching Sin City, The Watchmen, and The 300 women in Frank Miller’s or Alan Moore’s world are either:

1. Whores

2. Lesbians whores.

3. Mothers that are whores and have bastard children with ruthless men. 

 4.  Heroines that sleep around (i.e. are whores).  They also take their fair share (if not the lion’s share) of the punches and blows.  I suppose this is what they would classify as “equal rights”.

5. Victims that get slapped, shot, or punched.  And may also be…well, you get the point.

I think I’m about done with Frank Miller and Alan Moore both.  Sorry buddy, you lost me when Laurie Jupiter didn’t stick with the naked, blue guy and fell for the impotent nerd with the muscle suit instead.

But – and there always is a but – I am being responsible to both the environment and to my pocketbook.  I only buy library discards.  Right now my library is having a 2 for 1 sale.  The best part is librarians are not good at math so they look at my pile of books and usually say $3.00.

Whoot!

Picked up two books on web design/desktop printing and publications for work, two ‘little’ books (you know those wee books that have striped covers?), The Roaring Girl whose cover has been calling to me for a few years (50 cents, baby!), and probably a few others I’ve already forgotten.

The bad thing about library discards is:

1. The secondhand bookstore won’t take them for trade.

2.  I feel really cheap giving them to friends to read and keep on a recommendation.

3.  They’re usually hardcover and no good for taking on the infamous train.

I just bought another bookshelf at work and my three at home are full to bursting.  Do I need an intervention?