Friday, July 29, 2016
What Will Keep Us Alive
But my summer reading also includes a lot of poetry, and I am catching up on my poetry reviewing over at Escape Into Life.
What Will Keep Us Alive (Sundress Publications, 2015). I have a rabbit like that in my own back yard. (Minus the carrot candle.) That fabulous art is called Night Watch by Maggie Taylor.
More gushing: Letters to Colin Firth, by Katie Riegel, also a Sundress book!
Posted by Kathleen at 12:08 PM No comments:
Labels: Poetry Someday, Random Coinciday
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
I found this, from Yum Universe, which confirmed Lydia Bennet, who is totally CrossFit but also silly and uncensored in Eligible, and made me scared that I had addicted my babies to morphine by breastfeeding them.
Science News undid my worries a bit, but made me want pizza.
And the Huffington Post proclaimed that "Eating Cheese Isn't Even a Little Bit Like Smoking Crack Cocaine"---pause...well, I wouldn't know...---alongside the image of a woman bonding with the devil's disarticulated white tongue. Oh, wait, that's cheese.
All of which makes it a Fat Tuesday in the blog, even though it's Wednesday. And probably you already knew all about the cheese thing as I am often late to the party. And probably brought cheese.
Posted by Kathleen at 1:19 PM 2 comments:
Labels: Fat Tuesday
Monday, July 25, 2016
Is Russia Hacking Me?
I ask because I have not posted here for over a week--I was Internet-free off in Michigan with family wamily--but today my blog was viewed by more than 1000 people in Russia. So, clearly, this must be connected to the Russian hacking of the Democratic National Committee. Right? Probably I clicked on some Hillary thing, and her campaign is definitely sending me emails. Sigh...
Actually, this Russian blog attention has happened over the past week, so I should have heeded earlier warnings, as reported by CNN. Only, I didn't get any. Should I have been sending money to Hillary's campaign? Sorry, I don't have any!
Aside: Russia, you are hacking up the wrong tree here. Yes, I intend to vote for Hillary Clinton, but I have no actual power, except the power of a single vote, which, actually, is a lot. And I intend to use it. But please don't hack me. I don't want to be hacked. Feel free, though to read my blog, and to admire the Mashtroshka image posted by Fanghong at Wikipedia/Wikimedia. And my actual family wamily of living dolls!
More info here, in the New York Times. Geez Louise, it's just like the Cold War. Only now it's the Clod War, featuring Putin and Trump. Darn it, and I was all mellowed out from Michigan...other than having the Trump Follies on in the background last week. And, of course, there was worse news, so the weeping woman is still weeping.
Posted by Kathleen at 5:26 PM 3 comments:
Labels: Blue Monday
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Swimming in the Rain
a review--a sort of reading interaction--about global warming, climate change, extreme weather, and poetry over at Escape Into Life. It's about Scar, by Carrie Etter, a long poem in chapbook form. It takes place in Illinois. In Normal, Illinois!
Also check out Neatorama and Ddjvigo T-Shirts for this cool "Just Singing in the Rain" image by ddjvigo! And/or check out Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds in Singing in the Rain! And, wherever you Go, watch out for Pokemon!
Posted by Kathleen at 9:32 PM No comments:
Labels: Hump of the Week, Poetry Someday, Random Coinciday
Saturday, July 9, 2016
I have said it before: It interests me how we find ways to feel superior to another person, another group of people. It happens everywhere, and all the time. Whatever we call it, I think it's the lowest part of who we are, this need to find someone else to put down.
Last night, we watched Zootopia, borrowed from the library. Little did we know how pertinent it would be. Hang on, little tomato.
Posted by Kathleen at 11:21 AM 3 comments:
Labels: Slattern Day
Monday, July 4, 2016
Happy Birthday, America
This holiday week and weekend I have posted two poetry reviews at Escape Into Life. One might be the remedy for the other. I hope that Mark Neely, of Dirty Bomb, might read Suicide Hotline Hold Music, by Jessy Randall, so he can cringe and laugh in equal measure.
Posted by Kathleen at 8:59 AM 3 comments:
Labels: Blue Monday, Poetry Someday
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