Peg Duthie's Blog, page 54
May 16, 2013
a sprawl of tulips...
New online: Remnant, at Escape Into Life (along with Luisa A. Igloria's "Gardenia," J. Bradley's "#safetytipsfordating - Flowers," and other pieces, illustrated with spectacular photos by Katinka Matson)
New in print: two haiga and a haiku in Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiga and Haiku, published by Dos Gatos Press (which is currently running a sale -- their catalog includes compilations of writing exercises and a cancer memoir.
Speaking of cancer: Rhonda Parrish is calling for SF/F fiction and poetry about cancer, for an anthology where at least 25% of the royalties will be donated to the American Cancer Society. the deadline is June 30.
Speaking of calls for submissions: Eye to the Telescope's next theme is bodies. Submissions due June 15.
The green hair continues to liven up my life -- the BYM was inordinately amused at the compliments I received a couple of nights ago from the young girls at Sweet CeCe's. The green bean plants are now between two and six inches tall, which I find oddly thrilling (it's only been a week since most of them poked through the soil).
Time to hit the easel (not literally, though some days I feel like it). Thinking loving thoughts toward y'all, even when I don't manage to send a direct note or comment.
comments
New in print: two haiga and a haiku in Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiga and Haiku, published by Dos Gatos Press (which is currently running a sale -- their catalog includes compilations of writing exercises and a cancer memoir.
Speaking of cancer: Rhonda Parrish is calling for SF/F fiction and poetry about cancer, for an anthology where at least 25% of the royalties will be donated to the American Cancer Society. the deadline is June 30.
Speaking of calls for submissions: Eye to the Telescope's next theme is bodies. Submissions due June 15.
The green hair continues to liven up my life -- the BYM was inordinately amused at the compliments I received a couple of nights ago from the young girls at Sweet CeCe's. The green bean plants are now between two and six inches tall, which I find oddly thrilling (it's only been a week since most of them poked through the soil).
Time to hit the easel (not literally, though some days I feel like it). Thinking loving thoughts toward y'all, even when I don't manage to send a direct note or comment.
comments
May 13, 2013
Mother's Day at church
At the start of the service, the choir sang Ysaye Barnwell's arrangement of Kahlil Gibran's "On Children":
Your children are not your children
They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself
They come through you but they are not from you
And though they are with you they belong not to you
You can give them your love but not your thoughts
For they have their own thoughts
You may house their bodies but not their souls
For the souls dwell in a place of tomorrow
Which you cannot visit
Not even in your dreams
You can strive to be like them
But you cannot make them just like you
Rev. Gail preached about family and community, and how individuals possess both the desire to belong and the desire for freedom -- the challenge being as a family member (by blood or by choice) to nurture the people we love in such a way that they also feel free to be themselves.
Midway through the sermon, she stated that the largest category of households in the United States consists of people who live alone, which was true of our congregation -- and that the majority of that group at FUUN live alone by choice. She quoted a member of the congregation who had said to her, "I'm looking for someone to date -- but there's NO WAY I'm looking for someone to marry!" This was greeted with a wave of laughter -- and a heartfelt "Amen!" bellowed from the middle of the sanctuary, which triggered a second wave of laughter.
Maybe ten years ago, a group at church performed another Sweet Honey in the Rock piece, "No Mirrors in My Nana's House." This animated version of it (Chris Raschka illustrations) is a joy:
comments
Your children are not your children
They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself
They come through you but they are not from you
And though they are with you they belong not to you
You can give them your love but not your thoughts
For they have their own thoughts
You may house their bodies but not their souls
For the souls dwell in a place of tomorrow
Which you cannot visit
Not even in your dreams
You can strive to be like them
But you cannot make them just like you
Rev. Gail preached about family and community, and how individuals possess both the desire to belong and the desire for freedom -- the challenge being as a family member (by blood or by choice) to nurture the people we love in such a way that they also feel free to be themselves.
Midway through the sermon, she stated that the largest category of households in the United States consists of people who live alone, which was true of our congregation -- and that the majority of that group at FUUN live alone by choice. She quoted a member of the congregation who had said to her, "I'm looking for someone to date -- but there's NO WAY I'm looking for someone to marry!" This was greeted with a wave of laughter -- and a heartfelt "Amen!" bellowed from the middle of the sanctuary, which triggered a second wave of laughter.
Maybe ten years ago, a group at church performed another Sweet Honey in the Rock piece, "No Mirrors in My Nana's House." This animated version of it (Chris Raschka illustrations) is a joy:
comments
May 11, 2013
what to keep, what to let go
Today, I went through some postcards I received during my last year of high school and first year of college:
( scans + comments under the cut )
Rita Frizzell, a friend from church, died yesterday, of cancer. I was trying to describe her to another friend and eventually linked to her page at Luminous Mind, which happens to include my favorite Shaw quote. Her story about how meditation helped her help her family through the sudden death of her nephew is also striking.
On a happier note, I went across town tonight to help my favorite almost-91-year-old celebrate his birthday a few days early. In addition to being fed champagne, meatloaf, pierogies, and strawberry cake, I got to chat with him and his family about yoga, ziplining, tornadoes ("grab the violin and the dogs!"), crazy cousins, gin-based drinks inspired by said cousins, gardening, legal citations, Delaware's legalization of same-sex marriage, sculptures made out of champagne foil and wire, and a host of other topics.
This, I do want to remember.
comments
( scans + comments under the cut )
Rita Frizzell, a friend from church, died yesterday, of cancer. I was trying to describe her to another friend and eventually linked to her page at Luminous Mind, which happens to include my favorite Shaw quote. Her story about how meditation helped her help her family through the sudden death of her nephew is also striking.
On a happier note, I went across town tonight to help my favorite almost-91-year-old celebrate his birthday a few days early. In addition to being fed champagne, meatloaf, pierogies, and strawberry cake, I got to chat with him and his family about yoga, ziplining, tornadoes ("grab the violin and the dogs!"), crazy cousins, gin-based drinks inspired by said cousins, gardening, legal citations, Delaware's legalization of same-sex marriage, sculptures made out of champagne foil and wire, and a host of other topics.
This, I do want to remember.
comments
May 10, 2013
green
sprouting bean:
mixing paint:
telling Abby we'll be back after dinner:
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mixing paint:
telling Abby we'll be back after dinner:
comments
May 8, 2013
ars longa, as usual
Since the start of the month:
five new poems completed; two accepted
three hot yoga classes attended, at a new studio in the 'hood. Conclusion: bikram, yes; vinyasa, no
one commission completed; another in progress. So, there's been a lot of measuring...
...and some warming up...
and soon there will be ink-grinding. But first, class #4...
comments
five new poems completed; two accepted
three hot yoga classes attended, at a new studio in the 'hood. Conclusion: bikram, yes; vinyasa, no
one commission completed; another in progress. So, there's been a lot of measuring...
...and some warming up...
and soon there will be ink-grinding. But first, class #4...
comments
May 1, 2013
I am a puddle of goo...
... thanks to old Lawrence Welk clips being available on YouTube. I was looking up old Rose Milk commercials for something I'm writing, which led to the Welk show, which eventually reminded me that my first introduction to "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" was via Guy and Ralna. YouTube has two versions:
Memory is a funny thing: neither of these videos match the version stored in my head, which has Guy and Ralna staring intensely at each other throughout "Take my hand / take my whole life too." It was sizzling stuff for a seven-year-old (give or take a couple of years) to see and hear. Still, I'm glad these are available -- I'm struck now by how good the singing is.
(It's also odd to watch these in light of Ralna's comment about their divorce: "Guy and I were passionately in love, but we never really liked each other.")
comments
Memory is a funny thing: neither of these videos match the version stored in my head, which has Guy and Ralna staring intensely at each other throughout "Take my hand / take my whole life too." It was sizzling stuff for a seven-year-old (give or take a couple of years) to see and hear. Still, I'm glad these are available -- I'm struck now by how good the singing is.
(It's also odd to watch these in light of Ralna's comment about their divorce: "Guy and I were passionately in love, but we never really liked each other.")
comments
April 30, 2013
digging in
It's been a couple of years -- maybe more -- since I last planted anything other than basil and chives in my backyard containers. This year, though, I'm giving in to impulse and optimism. At my church's herb fair, I picked up seedlings for two kinds of mint (Bowie's Apple and Kentucky Colonel), French thyme, Mexican tarragon, rosemary, and curly parsley. I've started a few pockets of beans, poppies, and tomatoes (the last very much an experiment -- the seeds are from 2006, so their viability is definitely in question). I've ordered seeds for French hollyhocks and evening primroses, and I will also be hoping for radishes, arugula, and zinnias.
But, there's a whole lot of lettering and writing to be done before I let myself buy more potting mix. In the meantime, there are things popping up that I didn't plant:
( little discoveries )
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April 27, 2013
"a little bit of quirkiness"
I have seen my alter ego, and it is a horse named Spicer Cub:
In the words of his trainer, Mary Eppler, "Obviously the horse has a little bit of quirkiness to him."
My sweetie is running the half-marathon in the rain. I'm in the thick of steering assorted projects across the finish line. A couple that are up:
Online, in the current issue (#8) of Eye to the Telescope, my poem "With Light-Years Come Heaviness."
In print, in the current issue of Star*Line, my sonnet "The Bed I Haven't Made" (with many, many thanks to F.J. Bergmann for helping me solve its metrical issues).
I don't have my copies in hand yet, but I'm newly excited about Underplay/Overdone after seeing photos of a finished book at Medusa's Laugh.
Forthcoming: poems in Inkscrawl, Dreams and Nightmares, UU World, and Lifting the Sky.
(How funny the brain is: earlier this week I was feeling soooo woebegone about how little I have to show for all my hamster-wheeling. Now, of course, looking at this list, I'm like, "Not bad. ... Now go finish some more!")
There's been some time with friends as well (yay!). Last weekend, I went with a group to Keeneland, where I wore my wedding hat and St. Armands (ridden by Rosie Napravnik, who will be featured on 60 Minutes tomorrow) won for me a bit of mad money (which I promptly lost on near-miss superfectas, but that's gambling for you). Tuesday, I spent some time with H & N, which included looking both at 16-year-old pictures of H's 75th birthday celebration and N's favorite anatomy book. Wednesday, I scarfed down a bunch of Joanne's fries at Dino's as we waited for Poetry Sucks to get going. (Being allergic to cigarette smoke, one hour there was all I could manage, but that was long enough to catch Chet Weise reading Thomas Sayers Ellis's All Their Stanzas Look Alike and Josh "The Duke" Gillis's found poems. The latter featured lines from Craigslist's Missed Connections, and thus were introduced with titles such as "Why I Bartend and Love It" [which got a loud "a-HEM" from Rick, opening PBR after PBR] and "Our Daughters Are on the Same Soccer Team").
comments
In the words of his trainer, Mary Eppler, "Obviously the horse has a little bit of quirkiness to him."
My sweetie is running the half-marathon in the rain. I'm in the thick of steering assorted projects across the finish line. A couple that are up:
Online, in the current issue (#8) of Eye to the Telescope, my poem "With Light-Years Come Heaviness."
In print, in the current issue of Star*Line, my sonnet "The Bed I Haven't Made" (with many, many thanks to F.J. Bergmann for helping me solve its metrical issues).
I don't have my copies in hand yet, but I'm newly excited about Underplay/Overdone after seeing photos of a finished book at Medusa's Laugh.
Forthcoming: poems in Inkscrawl, Dreams and Nightmares, UU World, and Lifting the Sky.
(How funny the brain is: earlier this week I was feeling soooo woebegone about how little I have to show for all my hamster-wheeling. Now, of course, looking at this list, I'm like, "Not bad. ... Now go finish some more!")
There's been some time with friends as well (yay!). Last weekend, I went with a group to Keeneland, where I wore my wedding hat and St. Armands (ridden by Rosie Napravnik, who will be featured on 60 Minutes tomorrow) won for me a bit of mad money (which I promptly lost on near-miss superfectas, but that's gambling for you). Tuesday, I spent some time with H & N, which included looking both at 16-year-old pictures of H's 75th birthday celebration and N's favorite anatomy book. Wednesday, I scarfed down a bunch of Joanne's fries at Dino's as we waited for Poetry Sucks to get going. (Being allergic to cigarette smoke, one hour there was all I could manage, but that was long enough to catch Chet Weise reading Thomas Sayers Ellis's All Their Stanzas Look Alike and Josh "The Duke" Gillis's found poems. The latter featured lines from Craigslist's Missed Connections, and thus were introduced with titles such as "Why I Bartend and Love It" [which got a loud "a-HEM" from Rick, opening PBR after PBR] and "Our Daughters Are on the Same Soccer Team").
comments
April 22, 2013
E.L. Konigsburg, 1930-2013
The difference between being a writer and being a person of talent is the discipline it takes to apply the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair and finish. Don't talk about doing it. Do it. Finish. - a quote from Houghton Mifflin's page about ELK
Julian Singh on "the holidays"
Another Julian Singh statement: "Chops is to magic what doing scales is to a chanteuse. Without it you cannot be a magician, with it alone you cannot be an artist."
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April 12, 2013
"tearing curtains in my rib cage"
The subject line's from Kate Barnes's "Epona" (a patron deity of horses). The poem opens with this:
If only. I woke up this morning from a dream where I spent most of an afternoon indexing a manuscript -- in a bleak little pen somewhere on the Keeneland grounds, with my dying mother in a corner and surrounded by tennis matches and other families holding field day festivities.
It doesn't take a psychology degree to figure out where the various elements came from. But hey, subconscious, how about a white mare or washing machine next time? Or maybe colorful cargo-bike panniers? (I was reading a sample chapter of Luna Jaffe's Wild Money just before bedtime.)
I was going to moan about yesterday being mishap-laden (walking into a tree; having to throw out a panful of roasted veg) but I see that I did that a year ago, almost to the day. Note to future self: mark this week as a danger zone on the calendar.
Being stubborn as well as klutzy, I got two submissions out. And I was pleasantly surprised to see one of my poems newly published and shortlisted over at unFold. And, I'm in fine company -- the list so far also includes Dorothee Lang (who published Story Book-Ends two Aprils ago) and Nathalie Boisard-Beudin (whose photo+tunes journal is heaps of fun...)
Also from two years ago: I had some leftover red wine. I had a party to attend. So:
comments
Waking up this morning, I found myself
still in a dream of washing a white mare
in the washing machine.
If only. I woke up this morning from a dream where I spent most of an afternoon indexing a manuscript -- in a bleak little pen somewhere on the Keeneland grounds, with my dying mother in a corner and surrounded by tennis matches and other families holding field day festivities.
It doesn't take a psychology degree to figure out where the various elements came from. But hey, subconscious, how about a white mare or washing machine next time? Or maybe colorful cargo-bike panniers? (I was reading a sample chapter of Luna Jaffe's Wild Money just before bedtime.)
I was going to moan about yesterday being mishap-laden (walking into a tree; having to throw out a panful of roasted veg) but I see that I did that a year ago, almost to the day. Note to future self: mark this week as a danger zone on the calendar.
Being stubborn as well as klutzy, I got two submissions out. And I was pleasantly surprised to see one of my poems newly published and shortlisted over at unFold. And, I'm in fine company -- the list so far also includes Dorothee Lang (who published Story Book-Ends two Aprils ago) and Nathalie Boisard-Beudin (whose photo+tunes journal is heaps of fun...)
Also from two years ago: I had some leftover red wine. I had a party to attend. So:
comments
