Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Behind the shields and masks, there still were folk
Who did not drool with eagerness to ply
That riot gear, who sought not to provoke
Nor terrorize the people who did eye
That gathering with distrust, ire or fear,
And exercised their right to say so when
G20 came to town. It's been a year
That's taught us all to rethink what has been
A default notion: our leaders are right
And those who might oppose them, simply mobs,
Unruly, dangerous, and on the fight.
Some of them are just real, working-class slobs
Whose job today put them in a phalanx
Arrayed against democracy. No thanks.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
And its most harmful ultraviolet rays,
Is long-sleeved shirts, high collars... that's no fun,
However, if, like most, you have a craze
To show off your well-turned and pasty limbs.
A miracle goop's on the market, though:
They call it sunscreen, which stuff at least dims
The angry red and blistering, you know.
Bar those, once burnt, one remedy remains,
On hand in ev'ry kitchen (one need not
Grow fancy plants or go to special pains
To buy some aloe vera gel); you've got
To splash some vinegar upon your burns.
The smell's not great; but oh, the sweet returns!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Some comforting distraction from my cares,
But coasting toward the end of this crazed week,
That's where my thoughts have rested, and my stares
Have fixed upon. Today, Toronto boasts
A protest crowd of thousands, which contains
My Laroquod among the marching hosts.
He's safe, I know, but craziness there reigns.
So football's been my balm, despite our loss
To Ghana, whose Blackstars I like to cheer
When they're not playing us, at least. The gloss
Of this great tournament's not faded, clear?
But now I cannot help but spend the day
A-willing all the bad march stuff away.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Around the block in certain cities, e'en
Though it has certain problems -- that won't lose
It fanboys, though they know of these, I ween.
The lure of gadget-lust is strong, as they
Already know, for most of them succumbed
To iterations earlier. I say:
It does seem odd that more than two-thirds, numbed,
Perhaps to their old versions' fading charms
(I doubt a million of them just broke down
All at the same time) ran into the arms
Of their sharp produce-dealers in each town.
What now becomes of those forsaken toys
Abandoned for antenna-addled joys?
Flat-footed isn't quite how I'd describe
The manner in which our fine crew is caught.
Flagrante, like a wild Bonobo tribe,
Is more the truth. Not one of them has fought
A certain urge. The ship is humid, rank
And busy; no one notices the drone
That sidles up alongside, fires a beam
Bright pink in hue. Its target is unknown
Since no one's looking, but we wouldn't dream
It's aimed at any but Yectara, who
Stops in mid-stroke and screams "No, master! No!"
"How did he find us?" soon inquires the crew,
Re-donning garments, guilty, on the go,
And rushing for to check, all ire dispelled
By their concern for she who's lately yelled.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Immediately -- one's being softened up
For something awful. Where the disconnect
Occurred, I cannot tell, but in my gut
I'm sure it's all my fault. How tempers flare
When summer sets in well, how anger boils
At tiny things, and not one bloke can spare
A moment just to think. In such ways spoils
What could be quite a lovely afternoon.
But when things go wrong, of course one must fight,
Or be thought less than manly. Faugh! It's June.
You're right; I'm wrong and will be 'til tonight
When I get to unplug and pedal home,
While you will still be you, where'er you roam.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Such practice is how I made Balticon,
And shall make other trips this year. Shift work
Does have its benefits, but look upon
My error on this morning and beware!
Right now my workday really starts at nine,
But she who traded with me, who did share
A need to tweak a schedule. Unlike mine,
Her workday starts much earlier, I knew,
But last night I convinced myself that I
Should be there right at five. That's what I do!
Arriving, my surprised colleagues weren't shy.
"Six thirty's when you're needed," quoth they then.
I sighed and pedaled off, fooled once again.
Brent Weichsel, and he's ready to unleash
Filmmaking fury on us ere he's done.
His birthday yesterday, today's release
Of Sigler's newest book seems poised to stretch
His celebrations further. Have a look:
Brent's entry in Scott's contest ought to fetch
Him much attention. As for this new book,
I'm psyched as hell to get it. Want it NOW!
Meanwhile, wish Brent belated birthday love.
I'm sure he's quite hung over, bleary eyed,
And wond'ring what that yellow thing above
Him thinks it must avenge on him. Don't hide,
Dear Brent; it's just the sun. Now seize the day,
And may more viewings soon be on their way!
Monday, June 21, 2010
A woman on a bicycle can do.
This afternoon was an example such
As we may rarely see. I needed through
A busy surface street -- the Greenway's not
Entirely discrete from auto routes --
And it was one thick stream of cars, a lot
More, driving faster than typically suits
A jaywalker's or cyclist's need to slip
Across. While waiting, sev'ral cranky cars
Lined up behind me, honking. I'd have flipt
A gesture but I saw my chance (not ours),
Stared down a biddy, pulled a Sangamon.
She stopped for me but then roared blithely on.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Or a new thing that might just change the world,
This Empire Avenue. I do take joy
In checking out new projects as unfurled.
With thanks to David Forbes, whose stock I own,
For bringing this to my attention, I
Have dipped my toe in these waters unknown.
And if you are already there, please buy
Some stock in me, the Sonnet Queen; let's see
If in this day and age the market cares
For ventures such as mine, in poetry.
'Tis not real cash you're parting with for shares,
You know. Influence peddling can be fun,
Or so they say. We'll see when all is done...
Saturday, June 19, 2010
But I am nervous as I start to read
Clay Shirky's newest tome. I tend to view
New books with generosity but need
To ponder this. It's not that this book's bad;
His own excitement that we can do more
Than sit there now, alone and watching, sad,
Unworthy of our heritage, is, for
A moment quite contagious, but then he
Goes on to cheer how our free time could hence
Be harnessed for collective projects -- see,
That's great, until that view gets too intense
And I'm reviled should I choose not to play
As I'm expected to, a given day.
Epmire Avenue EAVB_JRYBRYMDIN
Friday, June 18, 2010
In this World Cup 2010. The most
Have been in one group. Has there been a flaw
Exposed in planning? No: too soon to roast
The FIFA body, though the referees
Are cruising for a scolding. Ever thus
Goes sport. 'Tis why I usually say "Please,
Just count me out" when someone makes a fuss
About a chance to watch it. This is my
One great exception. Though so far it's not
Too pulse-pounding -- Oh look, another tie!
Group C is not the only one we've got.
Tomorrow, Ghana and the Socceroos
Or other matches may yet chase my blues.
The Interstellar Feller: In Which Escape Plans Are Sidetracked (And Chickens Are Brown, As Are The Cows)
Tribruno is no fool; part of his plan
Was that the ladies fair and old would make
Attempt at an escape. This martial man
Has posted guards outside. But his mistake
Was grave indeed: no cotton stops their ears!
And as they seize Yectara, she just purrs
"How long's it been since you've been lovers? Years?"
The guards soon lost in kisses, she and hers
Can slip right by, though she cannot resist
The impulse to join in a while. Still plugged
Into the ship's controls, her moans enlist
The ship entire in her pursuits. Like drugged
And frenzied fiends, the complement all soon
Are likewise overcome. A shipwide swoon!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cetaceans once were of my great concern,
In first grade when my good friend, Monica,
And I sought out a worthy cause to earn
Some merit as Girl Scouts or something. Uh,
But that was long ago, and while I still
Don't dig the whaling industry, I find
That sometimes I would not regard as ill
The feel of a harpoon in my hand. Mind,
The whale that I would hunt swims not the seas
Of Earth, but of the internet. The sight
Of this behemoth's guaranteed to tease
The gentlest soul with ev'ry urge to fight
That nestles yet within our seething brains.
I'd really love to share with it my pains.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
To blemish all that blue -- it's fine, but fierce.
A searing sun at altitude ne'er fails
To pin me to the pavement. How the pierce
Of rays so pitiless doth wound; I wince
To think of it, well knowing that the thick
And sticky layer of sunscreen I've long since
Applied will not avail me much. I kick
And pedal powerfully for cover. Can
I make it much more quickly to the shade
Than I would were it raining? I don't tan
But burn, quite badly; it does not soon fade,
The pain or redness. Pale and weak am I,
Who scuttles, scared, beneath the scorching sky.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Pete Townsend sings, and I can but agree.
How else explain the soaking that I get
When on a rainy day, I choose to be
A bike commuter. While the cars slow down,
Their windshields fogged and blurred, their drivers mad,
I speed on down the Greenway, love my town
For giving me this back route. Bits are bad,
I will not lie; the tunnels 'neath Dell Range
Are flooded and detours I have to make
Force me to deal with angry drivers. Change
Is good for me, though; just means I must take
Some extra care. Meanwhile the water pours
And I soar blithely through the great outdoors.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Today In Cambridge, when two of his friends
Who'd never met before somehow were spurred
To come together through something which transcends
A normal way of meeting. One's Tweetdeck
Was running, and, since I've tweeted a lot
Today, my photo -- really just a speck,
A thumbnail! -- showed up there; another got
The shock of recognition -- hey, that's Kate! --
And felt at home that way. And now they've met,
TransAlchemy and BlazingBetta. Great!
HumanityPlus now can only get
More awesome with them meeting there. I find
I'm jealous, though I'm there within my mind.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Of type, content and talent, it's all there.
But of them one will e'er stand out for me:
Freakangels! I've been tearing out my hair
Just knowing I had gotten so behind
That it would take a day to catch up. So,
Today seeming a perfect day, I find,
To do something my birthday boy would go
Quite crazy for, I went back to the start
And read up to the present! One great dose --
Exhilaration! O, bestill my heart,
Especially where the story's gone! I'm close
To screaming right out loud, though I am still
Down at the day gig. I must mute my thrill.
Confined to a small cell, our cyborg queen
And her two fav'rite lovers, at a loss,
Must ponder their next move. They are unseen;
Their captors fighting over who is boss
Might well be in their favor. They take stock:
One naked man, enthralled, is not much use,
But they are well-equipped; they'll soon unlock
Themselves, these metal dames, will soon be loose!
Their fingers are toolboxes, and their brains
Enhanced beyond our understanding. Doors
Cannot imprison such as these, nor chains
(Unless they have consented; then they're yours
To play with as you will, but we digress).
In no time we hear their cries of success!
A time walker's a hard man to pin down,
Thursday, June 10, 2010
A season when e'en I do care somewhat
For sports. It's mostly just a nerd thing. When
The Twitter lords decided they would strut
Their geekery, creating #flashtags, who,
Then, was surprised? Just type a country's name
(Abbreviated, like on scoreboards): you
Then generate that country's flag. Each game
We tweet about will have some color. More:
An apopheniac and language dork
Like me will try to render semaphore
Of them, or to make sentences that work
With those abbreviations. Yet I fail.
Fine: shut me down. Put me in Twitter jail.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Morphs into summer. While the days are long
And lovely, and the noisy blackbirds sing,
As do the larks and mourning doves, it's wrong
To call me pleased, who pedals past and through
The grasslands and the marshes, breathing in
The scents of plants and flowers on Deep Blue.
The Greenway still is lonely with no din
Of insects. Barely hatched and tiny, they
Still hide within the earth, can barely crawl
Forth from their refuge; they'd be easy prey
In early instar stages, for 'most all
Those chirping birds. Come out soon, friends, and play,
And jump to herald me along my way.
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The lawn of weeds out back needs cutting; there's
Still laundry and some dishes. All this bores
Me e'en to list. I'm burdened by these cares
Alone in my big house, so might as well
Trade current blahs for future pleasures, if
I have the chance. And this is why I dwell
Today at ye old day gig, somewhat stiff
And grotty, trading my day off for one
In future months when I'll be somewhere new,
With people whom I've chosen to have fun
Alongside, whom I choose to be with. True,
There is no guarantee I'll live to see
Those days, but it's still worth a try. Ah, me.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
(But it's the busiest street in Cheyenne).
A pouch of cocktails really would be sweet
(But it'a so dreamy here beneath the fan).
A walk provides much-needed exercise
(But calories eschewed need not be burned).
It's cheaper than a bar, and no barflies
(But you've got plans for all the coin you've earned).
The day has disappointed me. I'm sad
(But you've already planned an early night).
Just one mojito wouldn't be so bad
(Would there just be one? Ha! Put up a fight!).
Ok, so what should we do in its stead?
(Just watch a DVD, then go to bed.)
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Sunday, June 6, 2010
In publishing a sonnet. No excuse
Have I for this except that, being Kate,
I found other distractions. No abuse
That can be heaped upon me can be worse
Than what I've given to myself for this.
In reading comics, 'stead of writing verse
I've been a slacker and deserve to miss
A day at last -- but for my dear, good friends
At TCA, I was reminded that
I've still a duty here that never ends.
We plot and plan a groovy new podcat --
Our lingo for podcast; we're passing weird --
And this reminder staved off what I've feared.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Its rawness and its ease are both part of
Its main appeal for those creators who
Have seen in it potential. Just for love,
We write our tales, record them, then hit send,
Then shake our asses, hoping that someone
Will say they're cute, or at least choose to spend
Some time a-listn'ing and will have some fun.
This we've achieved; community we've found!
And now it's time to ponder our next move.
The kids table's grown crowded, all around.
To join the grown ups, we shall have to prove
We've quality to offer, must demand
More quality at all points on the band.
So well combined as here, where Mr. Chess
Did thespianate as was lately seen
By Laroquod? I find I can but guess.
"Rail, genius," quoth he, upon his sign,
"Twelve beauty natural blonde girls' members stars --
An opportunity with them is thine!"
(I paraphrase a bit). Is he from Mars?
Or hath he the mere form of one who's come
From there, this actor dancer? It may be
That only Paul can know, who witnessed some
Of this performance, to whate'er degree
A subway ride afforded. One thing's sure:
'Twas fascinating for him to endure.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Today we launched the PayPal Rocket, though
It took a couple times to bring aloft.
With mixed emotions did I watch it go
Into the sky. I am not one who's scoffed
And said the private sector can't, but it
Is nowhere near prepared to take the slack
Of Constellation. I'm not sure how fit
Our people are these days to e'er go back
To Luna, on to Mars, or anywhere
Beyond, unless another party takes
The chance to shame, and thus, to goad us there.
Don't get me wrong; I still have hope. Indeed,
I wish SpaceX all due FSMspeed.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Seeks iPads after his adventures in
A-getting banned from Apple mecca. Will
He never find his happy place and win
His heart's desire? I really shouldn't kid
Him too much on his birthday, should I? Yet
I cannot help it (though I never did
Try all that hard). I hope he won't regret
This effort when he has his 16-G
Wi-Fi-enabled gadget, and he finds
The time for his capsacin fix ere he
Gets too discouraged as his journey winds
To its close, and he gets to have some fun.
I hope today winds up a happy one!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My travel season's done until the fall.
This summer all the fun will come to me
And stay here at the domicile I call
The KATE STATION. It's nice that I can be
A hostess. When I'm not, I'm busy still;
So many writing projects, and the need
To keep in touch! But truly it would kill
Me slowly if I stayed inside; indeed
My kitchen table really can't compare
To this sweet office I've set up outside!
The signal from my network reaches there,
I've shelter from the wind, and cannot hide
My pleasure at the scent of lilacs, though
That might distract me for a month or so!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Raindrops on Kittens
- An Experiment in Chronology and Method Comics Making by Paul Laroquod
- Escape Into Life - A Marvelous arts & culture webzine
- Field Notes - Made in the U.S.A.
- George Hrab - musician, blogger, podcaster, skeptic
- Heroes Only - My friendly local comics/games store
- Isoban's Journal - Illustrations, AudioBoos, Videos, More Geektastic Goodness Than You Can Handle
- National Public Radio - my source for almost everything
- Podiobooks - Awesome free audiobooks of all genres
- Posthuman Blues - A Feast of Forteanity & Futurism by Mac Tonnies
- The Goblin Market - A Podcast Novel by Jennifer Hudock
- The Invasion & The Zombie Chronicles - Innovative zombie fiction by James Melzer