incriminating photos

well, i have to say, we were more than a little surprised to learn about Feral's secret night life....needless to say, we'll be keeping a close eye on the likker at the party this weekend....

papa needs to recognize.

Instance One:

08/23/05
"Thank you for calling Papa John's, etc...."

"Yeah, I'd like to order a large pizza with onions and bell peppers."

"Uh, we don't have bell peppers. Do you want green peppers instead?"

Yes, please give me THOSE peppers INSTEAD.

Instance Two:

08/30/05

"Thank you for calling Papa John's, etc...."

"Yeah, I'd like to order a large pizza with onions and bell peppers."

"You mean green peppers?"

Yup, THOSE.

Now let's think about this. There really is only one kind of pepper that resembles a bell in its natural state. It comes in different colors, sure. Green, yellow, red, even purple. But do you carry those colors at Papa John's? No. So is the modifier "green" really necessary? No.

However, Papa John's does carry various other types of peppers, all of which are greenish in color: pepperoncini, banana peppers, jalapeños....All much spicier than a bell pepper. And all green. But none were ever shaped like a bell, except the BELL pepper.

Now, let's take it a step further.

A quick search through Google images of "green pepper":











There's no telling what could end up on your pizza.

Now a search for "bell pepper":











Ah, yes. THAT is what I want on my pizza.

is this really my life

it's looking that way.

thinking in clichés

today was hot as...











+ ING






in a..



!!!

[many thanks to an old friend who coined this phrase for me]

God is not a secret, and this is also a song

last night darren and i were chatting with a new grad student in his department who was destined to live in athens, though he's spent the last 15 years in massachussetts. he mentioned a band named the Silver Jews, which i vaguely recognized. my mind went slowing chugging back to a creative writing class i took several years ago at UGA. i said, "the lead singer's a poet", not actually recalling who the lead singer was. but the swedish-born massachusetts scholar knew: david berman.

if i've talked to you about contemporary poetry ever, i've talked to you about david berman's book Actual Air. i may have forced you to listen to some of the poems. it's incredible.

so this morning i was fondly remembering some of my favorite poems by david berman & thought i'd make a post about him.

Top Five Poems by David Berman:

1. Self-Portrait at 28
2. Imagining Defeat
3. Classic Water
4. New York, New York
5. Snow

i can't find a couple of them online...so i might post them here later.

anyway, here are some excerpts from Self-Portait at 28, in case i haven't convinced you yet that you should go read these poems. this one is a longer poem, but absolutely worth it (which is impressive since i tend to dislike long poems).

It is a certain hill
the one I imagine when I hear the word "hill"
and if the apocalypse turns out
to be a world-wide nervous breakdown
if our five billion minds collapse at once
well I'd call that a surprise ending
and this hill would still be beautiful
a place I wouldn't mind dying
alone or with you.
....
You see there is a window by my desk
I stare out when I am stuck
though the outdoors has rarely inspired me to write
and I don't know why I keep staring at it.
....
Today is the first day of Lent
and once again I'm not really sure what it is.
How many more years will I let pass
before I take the trouble to ask someone?
....
It's just that our advances are irrepressible.
Nowadays little kids can't even set up lemonade stands.
It makes people too self-conscious about the past,
though try explaining that to a kid.

"we'll see"

from an email entitled "Open Letter to UGA students":

To our 4,600 incoming freshmen, our incoming transfers and
new graduate students "Welcome to UGA!" And to the rest
of the 33,400 in the student body, a hearty "Welcome back!"

You are now part of one of America's great public research
universities. As you embark on the new academic year, I
hope you will share my excitement about the great things
happening on this campus.

Our freshmen are part of the most academically qualified
incoming class in UGA history, with an average SAT of 1242
and GPA of 3.72.

etc.

i heard it's green

my own personal hell: a never-ending day of frustrated errand-running.

especially when the root of this frustration is yuppy, SUV-wielding college freshmen.*

what's yours???



*there, now i have renewed my status as a true athens resident by exhibiting my anger at the return of "the students". you have to do that every year or the county fines you.

inspiring procrastination

should be an art.

and i should win an award for my superior blog-inspiring techniques. since i (finally) sent out an email about the existence of my blog, two new blogs have blossomed in the garden of cyberspace:

www.crawdaddylonglegs.blogspot.com
www.the-rock-lobster.blogspot.com

and they're wittier than mine. thanks. now i might have to pull some drama a-la-rob to get any real love.

in other news, we now have internet at our house. we didn't go outside all day. that's not true; darren went out a few minutes ago to check the mail.

we haven't actually been on the internet all day, although i do foresee more frequent posts in the future. we spent most of the day doing little things around the house, watching a great movie, and eating homemade mango-filled crepes dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with mango syrup.



in other words, we trying to distract ourselves from the dreadful reality that school starts in one week.

no soy latina

Cuántos de mis amigos me pueden entender? uf, caramba! dónde están mis amigos?

ah, están aquí!

unos poemas:


RIMA XXI

—¿Qué es poesía?, dices, mientras clavas
en mi pupila tu pupila azul,
¡Qué es poesía! ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía... eres tú.

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer



ARTE POÉTICA

Que el verso sea como una llave
que abra mil puertas.
Una hoja cae; algo pasa volando;
cuanto miren los ojos creado sea,
y el alma del oyente quede temblando.

Inventa mundos nuevos y cuida tu palabra;
el adjetivo, cuando no da vida, mata.

Estamos en el ciclo de los nervios.
El músculo cuelga,
como recuerdo, en los museos;
mas no por eso tenemos menos fuerza:
el vigor verdadero
reside en la cabeza.

Por qué cantáis la rosa, ¡oh poetas!
hacedla florecer en el poema.

Sólo para nosotros viven
todas las cosas bajo el sol.

El poeta es un pequeño Dios.

Vicente Huidobro

i am groucho marx

"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside a dog, it's too dark to read."