Down In the Frumps, So A Quick Wok Around the Blog

My server has been down several times this week. One of those retro Merc thangs. I thought what I was paying for was a long long drive down this super duper highway, pero nooooo. Everything slowed down, even booting up which was weird. Can't even get through to The Company for the long line of complaints. But don't blame mac, my new set-up is the cat's lap. Heck, I don't even know how to drive this thing, much less how to work all the doodads. It pretty much drives itself. I just try, as always to look "out where yr going."

So I haven't been able to respond to comments yet, or update the links. Or post my versions of the "royal wedding" poems, including the one from the PLE, the "official" poem. (can you believe he got away with the phrase "winter's wreckage" in their wedding poem?) Just play. Jeez, no one believes a poem is a poem anymore unless it's in quatrains--so I put it quatrains, changed the rhyme scheme, much as I hated to. And I wrote one for the zeitgeist, "The Barker of the Dupes," to the tune of a great song by Skeleton Key I found on a manga artist's blog from Japan, kind of piece I could do with my brother in a band. Whee. I want to add a place on the blog to post "flotsam," except that most would take that as an insult if they weren't devoted beachcombers like me. Maybe "jetsam" has a better ring? Except that flotsam would bear more booty. Jetsam being what one would sacrifice when sinking, something already selected, whereas in flotsam one might find some jewel of the wreckage, or the prize of something useful and rare when you least expect it, something comes along that you never knew you needed. And, ain't that a poem? Maybe "Flotsam & Jetsam", those things I find serendipitously while clicking on a phrase from a long scroll of recently updated blogs. (Hey, why won't mine update anymore on anyone else's site?)

I've been wanting to take "A Quick Wok Around the Blog Before I Go" in order to comment on certain links on my site & why they are there, such as comment on a major long poem posted by one of my favorite poets and fellow fellows from P-Town, Cynthia Huntington in Love and Salt ((((((((CYNTHIA!!!!))))))) which should be entitled, "Shot By Suzy Creamcheese." (sorry, Cynthia, I'm riffing off your title, the only thing I'd change in all those lines.) This is a stunningly important poem. I wish I had written it, wanted to write it, was thinking of attempting it, and now it's done, and so mistressfully, and now I don't have to, just take off on its wing. like Hummingbird out from Eagle's beating heart. Yes, isn't this why we are all here, when we are, doing exactly this very thing now? We will never be able to thank you enough, Cynthia. "My head thanks you, my heart thanks you, my vagina thanks you...".

And lastly, I just had to have adobo for dinner last night. Yes, comfort food. I'll be posting what's for dinner sometime soon en La Cocina, recipe from Dr. Lolo's Famous Adobo, he's a real M.D. Tag on Tagalog. Me, myself, I'm a sticky rice cake who can make a mean adobo, pancet y lumpia (poet on, Pilipinos! Ahoy, pinoys!) How did I learn how to do that? Well, no one should leave this planet before first reading Carlos Bulosan. I grew up in San Jose, my mother's generation were the girls one could marry. There was always somebody's uncle to feed. Besides, I was once the World's Worst Waitress in a Filipino restaurant. How bad was bad? I once served a customer who ordered red wine ("The house wine will do") a glass of fermented pig's blood. Hey, what did I know from wine? I was looking for a bottle with the label "House Wine." I'm pertnear a tea tottler. Back then, when I did drink a bit, I drank beer with the boys. I looked in the fridge for red wine, found a bottle of wine that looked good. He approved the label, ya know? Now I'm a total tea tottler, and from the look on his twisted & blood-red face back then, I'd say he is, too.

But, they did trust me take charge of the lumpia and I refined a few of my favorite dishes.

So, what kind of Dish am I? My sticky rice cake description says that most folk can't figure out what the heck I'm made of ("Are you a yam?" "You must be cake." "I can't believe this is not butter." "Samoan?" "Madelleine?" ad nauseum "What?? She quotes Hans Bethe & Rosie O'Donnell in the same blog!?" "Laureate Lalo y Pinsky?!") But, another thing that is definitely true about me: I always seemed to be "paired with some puto. CYMBAL CRASH!..." Hey, note the quotes, but I get it, and it's true. (this stuff is scary) "Some of my best friends are putos" or, in other words, in other's senses, I always taste best "sprinkled with freshly grated coconut." So try me with a shred of my fovorite coco loco, there's always good coconuts in his house, grated fresh daily @ Alivianate El Coco, tended by Reyes Cardenas. It's good for the head, real brain food & it can heal what ails you & coconut oil can burn all night in your own writing lamp. "There's always hot coco in this house." (One of my all-time favorite lines of poetry, I find it coming to me in odd and sizzling moments, is from the poet, Jessica Hagedorn: "There's always hot water in this house.")

Time to Greeze!

LD aka La Bird ~ "Sprinkle me! Sprinkle me!" "Oh Baby, now you're such a drag..."