Pages

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Links for Lazy Writers Like Me



Art Crank is just around the corner.

I was just-a-little-bit obsessed with the abandoned Six Flags when I lived in New Orleans. Here is an entire site dedicated to the deserted, dissipated and derelict across the country.

I read everything I can find about Patti Smith, and I'm also a raging feminist, so this is right up my alley.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Links for Lazy Writers Like Me





Above is my Tuesday-evening impulse purchase—by Sarah Hedlund Graphic Design & Illustration. It is everything I've ever wanted. See her other art here.

Would you like to see an absurd video I made? Here is one:



I'd been searching for the right music to accompany Atwood's b@d@$$ moves, and then realized that it was I who had written it. Full version here.

I can't get enough of this Yes and Yes True Story: I Have Narcolepsy. It genuinely puts my own sleep issues into perspective.

A great writer I very much enjoy interviewed Fran Lebowicz, who has some very, very strong opinions about fashion. I can't disagree with her yoga pants stance, and all I've ever wanted to do was get away with cowboy boots outside of New Orleans, but she's got a whoooooole bunch of opinions—and claims, like “I feel very strongly that almost the entire city has copied my glasses.” Mmm mm mmm. So bold. 

Is this enough links for a post?

BOOSH!

Monday, March 23, 2015

You'll Never Believe the Twist at the End!

As some of you already know, I have expanded my family. Please meet my little toothless terrier, Atwood:


Atwood was rescued at a puppy mill auction by Underdog Rescue last April and fostered by a wonderful, large-hearted woman (a heart large enough for her own three dogs and three fosters). I don't know what I was doing on their website, but I stumbled across his dumb little face, and a few weeks later, emboldened by many a pros/cons list and the fact that no one had expressed ANY interest in him, I was officially his official human.

Atwood came as Eugene, but I have too many uncles named Eugene (one. one uncle is enough uncles named Eugene to merit an dog-name change), and he just looks like an Atwood.

Because of neglect and etc. he had to have what was remaining of his teeth removed. But I'm not going to lie—that was 75% of his appeal. At best guess he is seven years old, and I've spent only a little time wondering how many little Yorkie babies he's fathered over the years, even though I don't like to think of him “that way.”

Atwood accompanies me to the office where he naps on my desk.



What an idiot, right? Recently I returned from a short trip to the kitchen to discover that he had attempted to help me with some client work:
.8gbtn bghg0..,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,mlm0…….lmmml0mlop0komn []’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[ [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\]]]]201 sz
I tell you: I did not see that ending coming.

Wondering how Edie is doing with the transition? Juuuuust fine...

 

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Links for Lazy Writers Like Me



My cool comedienne friend, Jenn Schaal, has been doing insane things like waking up at an unpublishable-adverb-early time and lifting hundreds of pounds. She is 40 weeks into this.

Countdown to 30 Days of Biking has begun. This weekend I plan on getting my bike a little better equipped for longer rides. Note: the pledge doesn't require you only bike for 30 days—just that you put your butt on a bike seat every day for 30 days.

Here's a project that's allowing young native women to be the voice of their stories.

Here's a cost-of-living calculator to determine the best foreign cities to live and work remotely. Filters include things like Women's Safety, Internet Speed and Air Quality.




Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Truism or True-ism?

Adage. Maxim. Aphorism. Cliche. Axiom. Dictum. Proverb. Truism. Saying. Apothegm. Chestnut. Platitude. Banality. Byword. 

For the record: I thought of at least 10 of those without the help of a thesaurus.

I have an unexplainable weakness for three things:
  1. Pretty bowlegged girls 
  2. Unexpected animal companionships 
  3. Botched aphorisms
    • Think: 
      • A picture is worth a thousand birds.
      • An apple a day doesn't fall far from the tree.
      • Don't mess with taxes.
My mom is Mom to me, but to you she is either Tawana (Rue Littleton-Grimes—aka “T. Rue”—aka “True Littleton-Grimes”) or “True”. She is both a bold and an adventurous employer of maxims and dictums—in addition to being the type of credibly convincing personage who persuaded me to believe something like “all the vitamins” are “in the crust” of the bread.

Yes, later in life I did a little baking and a medium amount of math and definitively discerned that crust is just the KIND-OF BURNT part of the bread. I know that. But what I don't really know...is which of my mother's adages are real, official adages—and which are her own imaginative inventions. 

So I'm passing the torch to you, readers: Help me discern what is a real, actual aphorism and what is actually just my mother's fanciful take on a fictional platitude. 

TRUISM OR TRUE-ISM?:

1. Don't get your panties in a wad.

2. ...eating us out of house and home...

3. Don't drink your bathwater.

4. You tricky dickies; you tricked me.

5. You look like a Woolfenbooger!

6. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl.

7. ...blow hot air up your dress...


GO!

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Links for Lazy Writers Like Me


Traumatized by the poetry I wrote as a macabre teen, I had all but forgotten about the form. But Minneapolis artist/writer/micro-publisher Aaron King has released a collection of poetry by Twin Cities poet Brett Jenkins—Oh No Everything—that has restored my fondness for the craft. Overheard at Boneshaker Books from a patron fingering the—dare I say—artisanal chapbook: “This looks like a book of poems for people with anxiety and depression.” Which is 100% accurate. So good. Buy it here for $6.

Here's a little sunshine. Or at least a littler foreshadowing of some sunshine.

I wrote about my lifelong sleep struggles here.

My favorite tumblr of the week.