Shut Your Cake Hole

Thanks to Beth for showing me this hilarious blog. Good humor, well worth clicking.

"Hey, Don't Write Yourself Off Yet..."

Check out "The Middle" in the player by Jimmy eat World for swingy feel good rock.

I thought I was near the end of the process with "Dirt Nap", otherwise known as novel #1, but it turns out I'm back in the middle. I thought I was done. I've been querying it, but now feel it isn't ready.

I had an "incident" a couple of months ago, where the whole manuscript, which I had been keeping on an online server "in case", got eaten by said server. Poof. Gone. No, I hadn't backed it up anywhere else (just don't go there with me -- it's over ok?). Anyway, weeks went by while tech support issued occasional emails on their lack of progress at restoring my entire vaporized novel. I was a basket case. When I finally got it back it was imbued with a karmic haze of perfection. It was the one that almost got away. Huge!

Now I'm thinking I have more revising to do, make that knowing. It's good, I like it anyway, but it needs to be even more awesome. That's what I'll be working on, "awesomeizing."

By the way, Trusty Pam and I got the bikes up to 30 mph on a downhill today, and 27 on the flat shoulder of Jackson Ave. This is impressive, not even taking into account my bike, festooned with a handlebar hula girl and giant obnoxious bikebell is to bikes what the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile is to cars. What the heck, play "Everybody Get Dangerous" again too!

New Ghost Pics, More Miranda July

A friend took these amazing pics of ghostly orbs at her place. Be sure to view the slideshow for close-up extras. She's even seen a human shaped vaporous haze walk past a doorway in her basement. At the time I was standing with my back to it and she elected to say nothing for fear (correctly) that'd I'd flee, possibly leaving a cartoonish person-shaped hole in her wall.

Back in June I posted about Miranda July. She created a really funny promo for her book here, and I'm finally getting around to reading it. "No One Belongs Here More Than You"
is fantastic.

Here are a couple of excerpts;

"This made her so angry she did the dishes. We never did this unless we were trying to be grand and self-destructive."

and

"I hated my job, but I liked that I could do it. I had once believed in a precious inner self, but now I didn't."

Somehow with a grouping of ordinary words she's able to take me somewhere I'd never find on my own, twist and twirl me a bit, disorient me with subversive familiarity. I like-y.

Have You Been Headwired?

Were you satisfied? Did it free the feelings in your spine, tangled up inside, all this time?

Do check out my beloved Foo's "Headwires" in the player. It's not too heavy with a breezy flow and enough of a punch to get you going this morning. I'm definitely re-headwiring myself today.

Today I regroup. Sis and kids are on a train then plane somewhere between here and south Texas. My living room looks like the scene of some macabre Mr. Potatohead dismemberment massacre, and the kid's half of the "apartment" (huge guestroom) looks like an F4 tornado leveled a Polly Pocket village. In reality, amid all the kid clutter, my usual run of the mill clutter is providing a nice base layer, and there are some colonies of bacteria in my fridge that might interest Sci-Med. This means, shudder, cleaning needs to happen. Jamming out while cleaning will be an absolute necessity.

Creatively, I've been dying to get back at my writing, having had two very vivid and pretty well plotted out dreams of stories, and a number of ideas about possible revisions for Dirt Nap. I'm also officially a month behind on commissions.
Back to life in the Sue lane.

Consoler of the Lonely

This song isn't by "unknown" as it says in the player. It's by the fabulous Raconteurs. Check it out for a little peek inside my shriveling brain right now.

Apparently I have become one of those rarefied artist types I've always scoffed at. Now that I'm, if not back in my life, back with my man, I realize how much cajoling, pacifying, and general smoothing of feathers it takes to run me.

I have no idea how the regular mom's of the world do it. I'm about tapped out.

Long Road to Ruin

Duration of family road trip (me, kids, sis, parents) -- 5 days, three nights
# of bedrooms -- 2
# of beds -- 4
Methods of suicide I pantomimed across the backseat at my sister -- 4
-- shooting self in head
-- death by hanging
-- choking with own bare hands
-- stabbing self repeatedly in eye with fork
# of times I actually attempted to astral project myself from vehicle using immense powers of concentration --- 2 (total failure by the way)
# of times I reverted to my own toddlerhood by saying to 4 year old nephew, "No, you're a whiny whiny baby!" --- 2
# of eyerolls and irritated, exasperated, or disapproving looks received -- untold millions
# of genius games invented by me -- 1:

"WooHoo" -- I sit in a comfortable chair and whistle randomly while letting my eyes roam around the room, pointedly not looking at nephew who is creeping steadily closer bursting with anticipation and gleeful terror. I continue whistling and ignoring until little kid is easily within reach and is quaking with fear and laughing almost uncontrollably then explode into action grabbing, shouting and tickling. Kid almost detonates himself and collapses into wriggling, giggling limp mass. Repeat.
Amount of energy expended by me for "WooHoo" -- minimal.
See? Genius.

Seven Nation Salvation Army

Update from kid central;

Had "lady day" with sister, niece, and mom. This consisted of wearing dresses and going out to a fancy lunch. When the backseat conversation became too focused on butts and farts (a major topic for niece at this point) we were scolded for not being ladyish enough. We gave each other conspiratorial sneers and giggled behind our hands. (Yes, I know. She's six and I'm in my forties. May neither of us ever be completely tamed. Vive la revolution!)

Expanded niece's vocab to include "orifice."

Both niece and nephew are prone to busting out into loud, spontaneous gospel sing-a-longs. They both attend private school where they are taught such things. Most I'm sure find this adorable and completely benign. It gives me conflicting cases of the heebie jeebies and the giggles. There is some kind of weird comedy to it, absurdity I guess. It's kind of embarrassing in the middle of Target. I feel the need to reassure complete strangers we aren't actually part of some weird cult. The creepiness factor comes from the realization they could be singing the Nazi rouser for all they know. They're just parroting back whatever is pumped into their little heads at this point.

I was thrilled then, when we had a giant rock out session this morning together. I've been sending them music to check out, and apparently it's a huge hit (even more so than all the Bible songs!) We pogo'd and whooped, massively jammed out air drumming and guitaring while niece pointed at me and sang along with the White Stripes, a mischievous grin on her six year old face, "and if i catch you coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you. That ain't what you want to hear but that's what I'll do..." The nephew checked himself out in the mirror while belting out (and pointing at himself dramatically), "'cause I look nothing like the kids in the video!"

This warmed my little rock n roll heart immeasurably. Do check out both "Seven Nation Army" and "Five on the Five" in the player. Come on, Don't be a chicken. Get your rock on.

Disturbia

My husband may be trying to drive me insane. He knew I'd be spending the morning having my soul crushed, (cleaning) (shudder -- you know how I feel about that), and yet I found this cryptic, disturbing, and yes, frightening display on top of one of his "Dan piles."

Exhibit A-- Just look at all those mysterious equations people. He knows, like all things I don't understand, I both loath and fear math. Is this some kind of threat?

Exhibit B-- What the hell is that weird blob of goo on that otherwise blank scrap of note paper? If it isn't chocolate pudding or black bean residue... Perhaps it's best not to know. Although I'm open to holding a "Name that spedge" contest in the comments thread.

Thrill Ride

Brief update from kid central:

Went to "The Mall of America" (huge mall in MN, probably viewable from outer space, with an amusement park in the center of it) and went on rides with the kids.

My 6 year old niece insisted I go on a particularly spinny ride with her involving lots of centrifugal force and screaming. Before the ride began, while we were imprisoned within the little car, our legs clamped under an iron bar, she tormented me with various disgusting effluvia while I struggled helplessly and failed at maintaining my authority. (Threatening to wipe her boogers on me, lick me, etc etc.) All of this she found hilarious.

Then the ride whipped us around and around and we screamed in unison many times repeatedly, laughing our heads off.

Then as the ride slowed to a stop and our laughing wound down to exhausted sighs of satisfaction I looked over and she was giving me giant, watery, little kid love eyes and smiling at me. Awwwe. Aunthood rocks.

Speeding Motorcycle

Daniel Johnston is an uncapped creative fire hydrant down in Texas. He suffers from bipolar disorder and has spent a lifetime on and off meds, in and out of institutions, making art and music compulsively all along the way. The documentary about his life and times ("The Devil and Daniel Johnston") is well worth checking out . His songs make me smile sometimes when not much else can, and are sometimes so full of genuine raw heartache it almost brings me to tears. He gets a mention in both Dirt Nap and the follow-up being written now.

This video stars my future rock star nephew and my formidable, beautiful, genius niece, who are now in town visiting for the next two weeks. That means my life and house will be kid central, posts will be somewhat infrequent until the end of the month, and not a whole lot of sculpting or writing will go on either.

If you dig Daniel, support him by buying some of his music (available on iTunes and elsewhere), "Etiquette" is an especially funny one if you can find it, sorry, not on playlist... Check out "Casper" in the player too, weird and funny and sad. Classic Daniel.

The Heron is Finished!

(Click photos for larger veiw)

Spamalot

Don't get me wrong -- I appreciate having all the emails for cheap Cialis, offers for me to "Work from home!" (hello--), and the "christian singles" who apparently harbor some weird, irrepressible, attraction towards me (sorry all you christian singles, I'm taken, and actually am more into philistines anyway...) filtered out -- BUT, I wouldn't mind receiving oh, I don't know, my actual mail!
Oh yahoo spam filter, why must you incur my wrath?!

Today I fished a stale, week old request for a partial out of my spambox. I've been checking it everyday too, which makes me wonder if sometimes they slip in the back door somehow. I clearly will have to be at least as diligent as my spam program, carefully sifting through all those annoying messages it's trying to save me from, (you know, all the ones I don't want to see in the first place,) to make SURE I'm not missing any actual mail. Hmmm... What a time saver?

Check out another Weezer song in the player from their new album -- "Dreamin'". It has soaring feel good vocals and even some "woo-hoo's", so don't be afraid non heavy rock people. I like Weezer because they have that mix of dorkiness and coolness that appeals to me, and seem to be perpetually scampering towards adulthood, but never quite getting there.
(Why would this appeal to me... hmmm...)
If you still are resisting the player, I'll have to resort to my mom's fall back argument for our disagreements, "Oh come on, want to!"

Get Dangerous

Hey everybody -- it's Friday and playlist.com finally got "Everybody Get Dangerous" by Weezer so check it out in the player. As always, think about purchasing the music of artists you enjoy. This song taps directly into my arrested adolescence and gets me all rowdy.

I know it's only 10:30 a.m., but I give. I'd rather weld all day tomorrow than when it's 95 and super humid. The heron is coming along beautifully. I'll post a pic when it's finished. This is a good one.

Speaking of getting dangerous, how about getting illegal? (maybe, not sure yet) I've been reading up on "fair use" in terms of copyright infringement, hoping I don't run into trouble. My novel is the first in a series I'm working on that revolves around the paranormal, rock music, and a cast of off beat edgy characters -- a young psychic trying to decipher all the weirdness, a musician (drummer), a private detective, and a very sardonic, yet oddly lovable dead guy. I weave music throughout the stories, and when I allow myself to dream very big, envision tying the marketing into a soundtrack, maybe a downloadable mp3 file you'd get the code to in the book or something. (Some hipster geek out there will know how to make this work. I wouldn't want to make money off the music. This idea is more just a cross promotional thing.)

Both the publishing and music industries are going through some rocky changes. That makes room for innovative thinking, looking at doing things new ways. Check out "Rock's New Economy - Making Money When CD's Don't Sell"-- an interesting article that appeared in Rolling Stone in May. I'm thinking merging music and literature could be one "new way." What do you guys think? (don't be shy)

Walking with a Ghost

This is a Jack White heavy week but bear with me. This is The White Stripes covering a Tegan and Sarah song.

When i saw this video I couldn't believe it. Not only is this one of the many songs referenced in "Dirt Nap", the novel I'm busy querying, (there's kind of a soundtrack to the novel), but there are these ghostly women called the watchers who skitter through the woods in period dress and war paint. The whole matador angle doesn't relate, but everything else does. This could almost be a trailer for my "book."
Anyway, coolage.

Restored, somehwat

--By proficiency with tools, the words of others, and some serendipitous iPod randomness.

Today was just a bad mood day. No way around it. I don't like to criticize the work of others, but when this song came on the radio today that sounded exactly like whales mating in a giant tub of bagpipes... let's just say it came close to incurring my wrath. I won't mention any names, but if you know anyone in the band whose name rhymes with "Porpoise Fred", tell them to cut it out, at least the bagpipey crap.

I did get some good work done. Making whispy light as air feathers out of steel is no easy thing but my cutting and welding mojo seemed to be in full swing today, and the Pseudopod, (I know right?) New Yorker Fiction, This American Life, and Writers on Writing podcasts kept me company. Tomorrow I'll be in a better mood. Promise.

All I Got Inside Is Vacancy

Have some coffee this morning before you check out "Hotel Yorba" in the player by The White Stripes. I've posted about Jack White before. This guy will still be around thirty years from now doing his thing. I like his writing and he's about the only guy who makes me break into spontaneous (and really dorky) air guitaring and head whipping. Hotel Yorba is a little too mellow to induce much of that behavior but is a cool song so give it a listen.

No writing today until probably about 9 p.m. All I'm saying today is rejection always sucks, even if you still have hopes pinned to a lot of other cool people you're still waiting to hear from.

I'm behind on commissions. That seems to be my chronic state, but anyway... So today will be a total welding day. It's only going to be about 82 today. I was telling some friends last weekend when it's really hot and I'm out there in my leather apron, gloves, mask etc sweating by butt off I just remind myself there are people in Africa and India doing stuff like this in much hotter weather, probably with crappy equipment, who not only aren't making art, but don't get to go into their own house afterwards and take a shower and eat a good meal.
Shut up and weld Sue.

The Hang Factor

I haven't quite got my rock on this morning yet, (could be lack of caffeine thus far...) but "The Current" (singlehandedly saving music radio) played this last Sunday and it's mellow, but amazing. Check out Leonard Cohen's "Tower of Song" in the player.

One of the things I really envy about musicians is the collaborative nature of their art form. They're practically forced to hang out with cool people in order to make a go of it. Not so with visual artists and writers. We still feel the pull though, and inevitably seek out members of our lost tribe.

When I was just starting out, one of the first people I showed my portfolio to had a nice gallery over in Door County WI (the Cape Cod of the Midwest). I was such a newb I failed to notice all the work in the place was his. I just saw a great venue, in an amazing location, with good art. Check, check, and check. He liked my work, but said he only showed his own stuff at his galleries. Turns out he owned three, all in amazing resort areas (he also had three nice homes). He was nice and talked to me a while though, and gave me some advice.

He said, "Be very careful who you align yourself with. The art world is full of people with creative talent, but no business sense, and no drive. If you throw in with them they'll just drag you down with them and none of you will ever make it. You'll spend all your time commiserating about how unfair the world is and what a disgrace it is that artists are forced to live in poverty."

"Jeeze," I thought, having only just discovered some of my lost tribe, all of whom were brilliant and funny and interesting, "What an ass!"

But he was right. Have all the funky, hopeless, loveable n'er do well friends you like. God bless them. Most of them are a ton of fun -- but for people you network with, like writing partners or groups -- make sure you find people as serious about it as you are, or you'll spend all your time trying to herd cats (encouraging them to get going, hand holding, etc).

Possible Ghost Sighting

More pics from Jamie's party. Lot's of the photos had little orbs of light floating through them. Often that's how ghosts, or energy, or however you want to think of it show up on film.

I also heard of another strange encounter of the unseen kind from our neighbor's daughter. The ghosts of our woods are feeling frisky apparently.

(If you believe in that kind of thing -- wink.)

Field Notes From Funkytown

I don't usually post many excerpts from my boring life, but my friend Jamie sent me these fun pics from her party so here goes.
This is me and my husband. He just took an embarrassingly huge amount of food from the spread she laid out and here is pretending to "share" it with me for the camera to avoid looking like a total pig. Nice try Dan.
There is a nice shot of a sculpture she bought from me called "Guardian of the Forest."
From there it gets pretty weird. See for yourself.

Structure

Was talking structure again with my brilliant writer buddy Kris -- about resisting the urge to edit my new story until I get through my "outline". I use quotes because it isn't a strict, formal outline, more of a rough list of basic scenes, (and something in me still resists anything resembling restriction or directive, but anyway...)

I was talking about how once I get the bones of it down I can't wait to go back in and finesse. She asked me when I do a sculpture how I go about that -- rough it out first, or just build as i go?

I had to think for a second. I always start with the general idea of course. Then it kind of already exists, just not in physical form yet. After that it's the feet. (It has to stand on something.) Then yeah, I do kind of rough it in structurally. Once I get the basic shape down, I go back through and shore it up -- beef it up at any weak points and fill it out visually.

I said, "It has to support its own weight," and a light bulb went off, or on I should say.

It's the same with a story. There's really no point in fussing with it too much until you know what you have -- what works and what needs to go, what needs to move around. The most lyrical, genius writing in the world can't save a story that collapses. It needs to support its own weight. The writing itself is in service of the story, otherwise I guess you're writing poetry.

Have a safe, fun holiday weekend. Be sure to jam out a little, even just in the shower if need be. Remember, it's good for you to shake it a little. It needs to be shaken once in a while people. Catch my beloved Foo's on the SNL rerun if you're home being moldy. See ya next week.

Book Trailers -- What do you think?

So this is apparently a hot promotion idea right now, creating a video trailer, for a book. (Especially for Y/A (Young Adult Fiction). I kind of like it, but budget would be a definite issue.

What do you think? Good idea or too much a of mix of medias?

Still Unravelling

"If you want to destroy this sweater, pull this thread as I walk away..." Check out "Undone" by Weezer in the player.

I've been insane with art stuff the last few days (Let me tell you how super fun it is to weld when it's 89 degrees out), but have been making time for my story none the less. The duddy chapter lives on, kind of. Great swaths have been cut out, written over, chunks moved around. I'm still excavating. I've had to go back through it all to get back on track and tease out the useful parts, pulling threads.

It's frustrating not being able to spend unlimited hours on it right now, but I'll keep the ball in the air a couple hours at a time until the schedule opens up a little.

Still have some queries and partials out meanwhile on my first one. Fingers crossed.