Art for a pink shirt

Since it's "buy nothing month" (you'll have to read Lena's blog about that), I can't buy the pink shirt I need to wear as a non-skating official for Saturday's roller derby game. I can, however, trade art for a pink shirt. So I'm doing some brainstorming sketches of my head ref (she's the one with the shirt).

A feeling with no center.

I’d forgotten this feeling.
Heartache.
Psychic nausea. Unease.
An itch that can't be scratched.
It's not like a broken heart,
but it's made of the same stuff.
A slow poisoning,
Not a landmine.

Got out the watercolor colored pencils today. If you haven't tried them, you should. They are great.

Got a photograph this beautiful animal today at Ilya's school. Being a photographer rocks! I get invited to attend (with my camera) all the cool events!

Song of hope

Hey do you guys ever go to Google and just type in the beginnings of search strings to see what most people search on?

This is a found poem that Google wrote for me with just a few prompts...I call it "song of hope."

How can I keep from singing

How can I make money

How can I lose weight fast

How can I get a loan

will I am

will I need an umbrella tomorrow

will I ever be good enough

will I ever get married

when will I get my w2

when will I die

when will it snow in seattle

when will it snow

when you say nothing at all

when you see it

when you wish upon a star

when you were young

when I work

when I see you again

when I was your man

when I grow up

New Project — Liberty Bell Group

Lenin was a mushroom

When life is all topsy turvy it can be hard to focus enough on finishing the things that need to be finished, let alone the things that I might actually want to do. This is a poem that came from a conversation about poetry, the sort of poetry conversation that follows the televised (May 17, 1991) revelation that Lenin was indeed a mushroom.

Poetry is kind of strange,
Like a bird, all feather and tremble, it flutters
as it chooses us.
But there is no mercy,
afterwards. The bird alights,
Grazes upturned faces with her wing tips,
Blesses us...but
flips the salt off her tail anyway.
Leaves us shining fools, recipients of the wrath hurled at decadents
but for ourselves, each and all of us are...
Are... well, yes, hope. Hope and Redemption!

The telecast is on YouTube. If you speak Russian it's hilarious, but you don't lose a whole lot if you can't.

Daily Commute

Seven

Social Haiku

Hot tub: six women.

Four of them nursing broken

hearts. Different kinds.