Hype Myths

It truly amazes me that human beans will believe anything a white coat tells them. One of my pet peeves is the constant pushing of a disease, with the sole purpose of making a profit on the new drug created to combat its invention. Somehow that appears to be backward medicine, as in - you can be sure the psychiatrist will diagnose a disease to pay the kickback on the medicine he prescribes. That's why everyone appears to NEED Prozac at the same time.

With that in mind, why isn't anyone else curious about the 24 hr. onslaught of cancer ads and the new 'preventative' serum being mandated for 12 yr. old girls?! That got me to wondering what the REAL statistics are. Fortunately, one can find out anything on this marvelous tool, even though it requires wading through the requisite, covertly sponsored sites that tout having a yearly mammogram to find the meat. So here's what you need to know about believing everything you hear:

The actual incidence of breast cancer, internationally, is 22 in 100,000, with Iceland having the highest rate and the U.S. being #17. That is NOT an epidemic, by any means - 1 in app. 4500. So, if a small town has only one case, and its hospital has a mega-million dollar machine, how do they pay for it? And is there any research that shows what squashing a breast and bombarding it with radiation will do on a yearly basis? Ergo, this hype is 'much ado about nothing' - for profit.

Balance that by the fact that the incidence of forcible rape is 70-80 in 100,000. Keep in mind that the FBI only has statistics on REPORTED rapes. The number may be much higher. Yes, 350-400 percent more rapes than cancer victims. Are we doing anything to stop THAT epidemic? So, it would appear more important (re: forced girl vaccinations) to prevent our women from spreading disease to the rapist than in actually stopping the crime.

Do yourselves a favor and research whatever you hear in the media. They lie. And then, spread the word and stop this insanity of drugging and manipulating women to their own peril.

Lost Art

We finally had it with the stupid Lexmark scanner screwing up everything else on the computer. If you're ever in the market for any PC accessories, do NOT buy Lexmark - anything. They just haven't worked out whatever bugs they have. Anyway, we ordered a rebuilt Microtek Scanner from Tiger Direct, having had good luck with their products and services - not to mention the prices. It came with a 'wand' that has space for inserting slides or negative film and scanning at very high resolutions.

I am amazed to be able to finish my art portfolio with visions I thought were lost to me forever. Paintings I haven't seen in 30 years are at my fingertips, because of some nerd's expert vision.

So, no I didn't get outdoors on one of our rare, non-rainy days. I continued my playing spree! Yippee!

Minions

One of the reasons to get rich and famous is to hire assistants to do the grunt work. I love working with the pictures but hate setting up the dioramas and the subsequent clean-up. Same with painting and carpentry. I loathe cleaning the brushes and sweeping sawdust. Wouldn't it be nice to have a gopher to do all the mundane crap.

I think about things like that when I see the new works of Chuck Close. But, his case is also very special and he wouldn't be able to work without the aides. He undoubtedly did all his own work on the first, huge, pencil portraits. And whether or not you like his art, it is meticulous and compelling. Now, aging and from a wheelchair, he is starting another artistic life, the same portrait genre but using daguerreotypes. If you've never seen one of those ancient things, do an e-bay search and be amazed.

You're still awesome, Chuck.

Slacker

I haven't been writing, but I HAVE been doing the preparations for getting back to it - playing with the camera and Photoshop. It's a shame to not learn how to use the excellent equipment we have, so the Rev is patiently helping me through the minefield of an aging mind vs. technology. That's no easy task, and I'm grateful for his expertise and willingness to share same.

The 'Barbie' saga is not quite edited, but take a look at the cover of an essay anthology. What does one do with short 'shorts' that have no place in novel writing but are still good prose? Well, like Stephen King, you wait until you have a gross of them and publish them together. The words end where they should, and some stories are not long enough for an entire book treatment. Unlike Moliere's comment, writer's rarely have TOO many notes.

Just thought I'd let you know where I'm at; I AM working - at playing.

Beyond Magic

Every once in awhile you may be lucky enough to view a work of art which is life-changing. "Save the Green Planet" is in that category. If it doesn't make you think and adjust your core beliefs, it will at least mess with your head. There is blood, and insanity, etc., but the underlying message will keep you guessing until the end. And, doncha just hate those others, when you know the banal plot before half time?

None of the people are pretty; it didn't gross a mil at the box office; and you will have to wade through subtitles to the Korean. It's worth it. A more unlikely pair of heroes (or villains) you will never meet. They are mesmerizing in their performances. I want to take the lead actress home and adopt her.

It's about damage, and programming, and has a dark humor that you hate yourself for liking. 27 stars and a must see. And, oh yeah, the cinematography is awesome.

Job Well Done

The first library opened in Tan Hanh, Viet Nam, thanks to the courageous novelists of NaNoWriMo. For the full story and pics, go to http://www.nanowrimo.org/modules/news/article.php?storyid=173

I don't know how it works for other writers, but when I'm in the middle of the madness and wondering what made me choose insanity over reality, I will remember those kids' faces as they sit in their comfy, book-loaded room. There are few things I deem more worthy of any effort. Had it not been for being able to escape into the world of words as a child, I would most likely be more unbalanced than my family thinks I am. What a joy to be able to pass on that gift.

If you aren't already a Nano, Precious Readers, please think about joining us this November.

Focus

I finally got my lazy (fearful) butt in gear and managed to send a query to an agent this past week. It's on my 'to do' list EVERY week, and I continually ignore it. Depression works like that, but actually READING my 2007 Writer's Market brought home the fact that we HAVE one agent in the state. There are probably more, she's just the one who happened to request a listing.

Anyway, I'm going to try to keep the resolution to submit once a week. Hang the rejections; you can't get them if you don't put it out there. Otherwise, I will never be able to realize the dream of being published. The internet is not, yet, at the point of making self-publishers rich. Not this one anyway. And online submissions have not brought any result whatsoever. And screw Craig's list for writing jobs; I continue to believe that I was ripped off, but I'd have to read every greeting card out there to prove it.

It's just a matter of time - and numbers.

Space Travel

Who knew you had to read 'Wired' magazine to find out that there are 42 space ports being built, worldwide (U.S. has 7 or 8), and that they intend to start a tourist trade with rides in space as early as next year! The ticket will cost you a cool $250,000, so none of the little people will be corrupting those seats anytime soon. I just think this is the most ludicrous thing anyone could spend a quarter mil on, pardon the bad English. "You know you're a redneck if you can't fly in space."

In a country that can't even get airline schedules right, how long do you think you're going to have to wait at ground control in one of the rockets? Well, at least you won't have to wait for the bathroom, although the thought of a catheter would make me demand that THEY pay ME. And do you need a darned passport yet?

It's just dumb; in a world of rampant homelessness, with children abandoned and starving, poor seniors eating dog food, etc., could you think of a better way to spend the money you stole from the rest of us - or inherited from daddy after he stole it?

On a happy note - read 'Wired'. It's a great mag, even if I don't understand half the techie gunk.

But Is It Art?

In the continuing case of Art vs. Commerce, the Rev and I have concluded that my lack of success, financially, makes me a roaring success as an artist with a message against rampant commercialism. Think about it too long and your brain will fry. I'm just elated to discover what an overnight sensation I am - in my own mind. And isn't that the only critic I need to obey?

This stems from a news story about Wyland (the guy who paints sea murals); he stated that he was just going around trying to make the world beautiful and stir up some awareness of our marine brethren. It wasn't until he made buttloads of money that the critics panned his craft!

Natural Rights

The question is: does an entity have inalienable rights not to be altered, and further, does anyone have the right to alter an original work of art or nature? I'll tell you up front that the Rev and I have been debating this for two weeks and I still have no answers. They may be two different issues: does the redwood have a right to occupy a space older than any living person (how about the ivy climbing up it and eating into it); and/or can a community council repaint the colors on a Calder sculpture to match their high school? Does it make a difference if the art in question is obviously produced for mass consumption and has attained its agreed price?

Would my answers be different if I weren't prejudiced about the Barbie I bought for 50 cents at the Goodwill and am incorporating into my own work? Any thoughts you have, Precious Readers, would be greatly appreciated. Does Nature have rights? Does an original work, even if composed of former works, have rights? And keep in mind that ALL Western art is a copy of something which came before it.

If You Don't Like the Weather

Wait an hour in WA and it will change. We had spring yesterday. The sun was shining through the camellia bush while a flock of robins feasted in the overgrown lawn. It's sleeting this morning and it's going to be one cold ride down to that bookmobile and post office. But, I have to go; I'm out of reading material and my Chinese DVD needs renewed. Yes, I'm finally trying to learn that difficult language. It's been a recurring goal that I've never acted upon, but it's certainly going to take some reforming of mouth shapes to accomplish.

So far, I can remember 'hello, what's your name?, my name is, counting to ten, and the color purple'. None of this will get me the direction of a bathroom, if I ever get to China. That, by the way, is one of the phrases I would force myself to learn before any trips overseas. Please, thank you, how much, and where's the john? Travelers who expect to be accommodated in there own language irritate me, although most aliens make the effort to learn OUR tongue.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to remember any of it - let alone use it - but the main point is to keep my mind active. Now about that body . . . yeah, the bike ride. Oh well, I can always change clothes if I get soaked.

Google Before It's Gone

With the rampant lawsuits flying, there's no telling what internet rights Viacom may eliminate. The bottom line is not about copyrights; it's about the fact that the commercial world has always hated anything we can get for free - or Goddess forbid, have fun in the process.

Be that as it may, and even if you aren't dubbed a conspiracy theorist, you should Google yourself (yes, it's become an acceptable verb in the dict.) at least once in your lifetime. I was elated to see so many references to my nom de plume and equally as gratified to discover no wire trail at all to my real identity. For those of you who have not read the autobio, I'm still trying to hide from a family that wants me back for its own nefarious purposes. It's complicated; that's why it is taking three volumes to explain.

Anyway, go Google yourself. Even if you're not famous (or infamous), it's hilarious to see the associations with your particular name. If you're not there, for yucks, feel free to try mine.

Erin Go Braghless

Happy St. Patty's Day and all that 'faith and begorrah' crap. It's just an excuse to sell green cupcakes and beer. I've already had three people laud the benefits of eating corned beef and cabbage today. People . . . really, do you know any Irish that are particularly lucky? Look at the state of their poor country, fergoshsakes. So it's much ado about nothing - well, except for that driving all the snakes out of anywhere thing.

Be that as it may, when the Rev returns from his trip to the big city, I've stocked up the fixin's for Reuben Sandwiches*. Hey, sauerkraut was on sale. What Deutsch wouldn't take advantage of that?

*For those uninitiated to this delicacy: Butter rye or pumpernickel bread, putting first slice butter side down in skillet; layer Swiss cheese, Thousand Island dressing, corned beef, and sauerkraut; top with bread, butter side up; grill 4-6 min. on both sides until browned (you may need two spatulas to turn the sucker over). Yummy.

Safe havens

I think I originally isolated myself from the world because I was convinced I was too damaged to participate in anything social. The truth was slammed home today and I discover that the true reason is that I am too naive. I am 60 going on 9. Maybe we all stop at the age of the first 'defining event' and never fully recover. And our virtues are also our flaws.

My biggest fault is that I continue to expect people to be nice and truthful in their dealings with me. That is the face I present to them. What they expect from me, I no longer have a clue. With a tenet that ill-conceived, there are no safe havens.

Minutia

I haven't made it all the way back to uninhibited prose yet, but I am making daily headway on correcting errors in previous layouts. Minutia bugs the crap out of me, and that's probably a good thing. Otherwise that dangling participle or blurry photo would lie there for eternity to haunt my readers.

Not that there are that many at this point; when they increase, I don't want them wondering about any of my cognitive skills.I used to accomplish these things with lists and the Alice challenge of 'doing eight impossible things before breakfast'. I have become lax on the lists, because they seem to be everywhere and not getting any shorter. And therein lies the crux of mental chaos; the elephant, the teaspoon, scanning them like you're at a Wimbledon match. Finally deciding that you can't eat an elephant with a teaspoon, you gleefully grab the last packet of Pop-tarts and forget about the stupid lists.

I'm going to play today, too, and . . . I'm not sorry.

Play Misty for Me

The Pineapple Express seems to have pulled in right on schedule; there are soft rains every day, but I'm still managing to get in one bike ride to the P.O. Pretty proud of that effort, seeing as how I hate leaving the house and being stared at. But, it's either atrophy from no exercise or experience a little discomfort. I look forward to the day it just feels like a happy ride. I've always loved sailing through the wind on a beat up old bike.

I had a new one once, a 10-speeder, lavender with all the bells and whistles. It wasn't the same thing as a fat tire relic, where you can be nine years old again and escaping your mom's domain. And it's impossible to ignore the beauty of Spring when you're forced to start slower. The camellia bush is going to fall over from the weight of its blossoms this year. The magnolia tree is bursting with velvet-covered buds, and pools of black water in the dirt drive, next to that vibrant, chartreuse moss . . . well, I'm thankful I must force myself out the door at least once a day.

Now, if I just don't look right and think about those mole hills - mowing.

Flushing

After three years of holding down the handle to make the toilet flush completely, I finally figured out how to fix that sucker. Shorten the chain and lop off the arm that was hitting the lid - seems simple enough now. I don't know why I put off little jobs like that. They can make such a difference in the way we greet the day. It's probably another thing, as simple as not putting my tools back where I can immediately find them for any given job.

Rule of thumb: any small job requires an exponential number of tools to complete the task. I understand fully why my former, carpenter boss appreciated me so. If we all had an assistant to clean up after we got all those implements out, we'd most likely get the job done a lot quicker.

It's the same reason it takes me so long to get back to painting; I hate cleaning brushes.

Stockholm Syndrome

It was a discombobulated weekend with much introspection, thanks to an unwelcome, naysaying drop-in. Also, it's hard to get outside when the wind and rain are moving sideways. But the Rev said something extremely valid that made a lot of my 'blues' fall into a clearer outline. He told me to give myself a break and just enjoy the down time while I was deprogramming myself. He knows that permission to relax is not in my portfolio. And that's most certainly what this is. Spending a long time under the thumb of a sadistic despot (the Russian and the motel job) is not an experience I want to repeat, but when it's gone, you don't know how to start your day without the requisite beating. Think salivation of Pavlov's dogs.

Oh certainly, it's not a cognizant choice but try telling that to the programmed receptors that await the verbal lashing. Also, this is the very first time in my long life when I have nothing but the space to create staring me in the face. I am thoroughly unacquainted with how to act to the possibilities of no duties or chaos of scheduling surrounding them. Ergo, I have to go through that void, being as kind to myself as I can for the indecisions, and figure out what it is that I want to do for the day. Yes, ME, personally.

That's a whole lot harder than serving everyone else's needs. Isn't that strange?

Spring Break is Over

I think I'm back; it's hard to tell until I log into my writing and produce something substantial, but the 'void' appears to have run it's course. That's just as well with the new mandate on DST. If you think about it from a conspiracist's POV, this is the greatest power joke ever played by the Powers That Be. Unbeknown to most of us, they played it before during the gas crisis of the 70's, where we were first amazed by people shooting each other to get gas rations.

It affects most of us not one iota, but consider the global accommodations that must be made for a stock market that opens an hour earlier or later than it is expected. If the mogul in the Philippines gets up an hour earlier, so must his maid . . . and what does she do with arrangements for her children that are skewed by that same hour?

Whatever . . . the only thing of which we can be certain is that there are only two driving forces on the throne, power and money. This coup satisfies both, and I'll bet they're laughing their proverbial butts off. THAT, Precious Readers, is power.

Juggernaut

I've pissed away another day - another week - I DO know the reasons; just can't seem to amend them. The elephant is too big; I'm tired; just want peace; blah blah. But the truth of the matter is that I feel the Grim Reaper approaching with alarming speed. I KNOW there is a limit to my time and I'm paralyzed - hopeless. Examine that word. It means just what it says. I'm in one of dark spots where nothing looks like it will work.

Experience tells me I will be alright tomorrow. No big deal; just a hormone flash or something.

Feedback

The problem with creative people (as if there could be only one!) is that we are moody and prone to internalizing irrational conclusions. The wonderful scientists at Berkley have recently discovered physical reasons for that, but I'll tell you that story some other time. For right now, one Precious Reader sent a comment my way that sparked the proverbial light bulb.

We get into the habit, since creativity is a largely celibate undertaking, of thinking that no one hears, reads, thinks, cares (pick one), and it flat out shuts us down. What's the purpose of writing the quintessential haiku if there's no one in the forest to applaud? And, of COURSE that's not the purpose of artistic creation. I DID say it was irrational, didn't I?

So, thanks for correcting my compass, Valerie. I got into a rut of thinking no one was reading and that THAT was my primary goal. Uh, right . . . better clean up my language - or at least my negative thoughts. Working on it.

Lunar Phases

We had a full moon AND a rare lunar eclipse over the weekend. I have no idea what that means; I'm just hoping something will kick-start me into doing that which I should. As you can see from the state of the blog, I'm still suffering some kind of writers' block and haven't done a damned thing. And, another month goes by. That wouldn't bother me as much as it did in my youth, BUT . . . my days and months are becoming finite with the passing years. Not that they weren't before. I'm just feeling it more at 60.

If my Muse is out there . . . HELP!

In Like a Lion

We got slammed with a big, fluffy, snow storm last night and I'm glad I decided to do the grocery shopping before it hit. There are 50 car pile-ups on the freeways; imports have no clue how to drive on snow in the Northwest. It doesn't phase those of us who spent years in six foot drifts. We're overheard saying, "Pshaw fool, this ain't nutin!" The real secret is - stay home and don't try to cross the mountains in a white out. Idiots.

Anyway, it's cozy inside and relieves the guilt of not working in the outdoors. Besides, it's so beautiful, it leaves you breathless. So Puxatawney Phil was probably right this year; it will be a short winter and the end of March will return us to our normal paradisical state. It's just a great place to live, and, if you don't like the weather - wait a day for it to change. And stop complaining. Take a breath of fresh, mountain air.