C.B. Potts's Blog, page 21

Howdy, Y'All!

Boy, it's been a while. I've been busily hitting the reset button with a hammer, and it finally seems to have taken, so let's get back to business, shall we?

I've managed, somehow, to fall in love with Ree Drummond and Reza Aslan simultaneously, which seems like it should break the universe, but so far, so good. Ree Drummond is the Pioneer Woman on the Food Network,  and she's selling exactly the type of fairy tale life I'm prone to buying; the recipes are simple a...

Tuesday Morning, Thus Far

Sometimes the cold is a presence in your life, an entity that can not be ignored, and the reason it can not be ignored is that it's hurting you. Woke up with a splitting head and body aches and it's been a slow two hour crawl toward anything even vaguely resembling normalcy. It's not even cold in the house, but it's frigid outside and the cold is trying to get in: ice on the windows, artic blasts rushing in any time a door is opened.  If I didn't have to get things do...

No Time But There's Poetry

It's been storming and a cold snap's coming and the kids are home and I have SO MUCH TO WRITE so in lieu of an entry, I leave you this poem I wish I'd written:

American Life in Poetry: Column 461

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

So much of what we learn about life comes from exchanging stories, and this poem by a Californian, Peter Everwine, portrays that kind of teaching. I love the moment where he says he doesn’t know if the story is true but it ought to be.




A Story Can Chan...

Spaces

There was a man who was a cop who in the movie theater shot another man dead as a doornail because that man had been texting during the movie previews. Why would he do such a thing? I think it might have to do with the ownership of experiential spaces and how technology can fuck that right up.

Just unpacking. This doesn't have to make sense yet. An experiential space, perhaps, is the area of existence in which you expect to be free from engaging with others. There's the stimulus, there's...

Monday

How small the world can be. Yet how much it contains. Out the back window, past the garden, over the ditch, there's a rise, and on that rise there's snow, and on that snow, there's ice, and on that ice, there's the first butter yellow of spring sun; an elongated kite shape edged by the shadows of pines. One moment bright, one moment dimmer: you can know the clouds in the sky with your eyes fixed upon the ground..

Sometimes life is like that. We can't see the cause; we see o...

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Yesterday, Nadia came home from school grinning like a loon. "There's no school tomorrow because it's going to be cold!" she said. "I even have a note!" And sure enough, due to the projected extreme low temperatures and wind chill (they're talking -50!) the kids are home today.

Last night, Harmony's friends were trading Facebook complaints about how cold it was in the barn they were milking in. But you can't just not milk the cows because it's freez...

Why, Hello Monday

Every now and then, you have to wonder who profits from a population discouraged, depressed, disempowered, and disenfranchised.

I am pretty sure it's not me. I am pretty sure it is not you.

But somebody, somewhere, is making tons of money off the current situation. Far be it from me to urge them to take a place against the wall, but when the shooting starts, I bet that's where they'll find themselves.

Have you read the times today? Go and read the times today. Not all of it, necessar...

Have you ever noticed

That the more 'enlightened' someone is, the more time they spend pointing out how everyone else is doing it wrong?

Radio Silence for a Bit

Hey everyone, we have the Puking Children here on tour! As you all know, they are my FAVORITE show and I NEVER miss a performance: in fact, I'm lucky enough to have a FRONT ROW SEAT! So you will forgive me if the blogging is scarce and the disinfectant spraying is plentiful. From the North, when you smell the faint wisp of Lysol on the wind, just smile and say "Rock on!" and verily, we will.

Frustrated Cindy Is Frustrated

I'm trying to find  a story I wrote on LJ apparently years ago about an Oracle who lived in a city that got destroyed. Can't find it for nothing. I don't suppose any of you have a copy somewheres? (Having re-read through Jan 2010 at this point)