In Which I Don't Want To Miss The @TuacaCon Boat (But I Might)

Debauchery, thy name might truly be
Tuaca, beverage of failed pimps
And DragonCan'ts. Oh, how I long to see
What orange-flavored hijinks all these imps
I call my friends might now engage in. Ware,
P.G., and Phil, and Brand, and Kim, and, yes
Miss Christiana, Val and Laura, there
And Starla, Patrick, Dave, Paulette (I guess
They had to let in Paul or else he'd sic
His bunny slippers on them), also Chooch
And Viv! TuacaCon is no mean trick
To pull off. Throw in Sigler and (O, smooch!)
As virtual events go, count me in
As soon as I get off work, for the win!

In Which I Am Sick Of Listening To Myself

Some vocal chords, a throat, a head, each set

A little diff'rent, so our voices come

To sound just as they do. And when we get

To spend a day a-list'ning, they sound dumb

To us who bear them. Podcast marathons

Are exercises in humility.

Misspeakings, grunts, just sounding like morons,

Or losing track of character, ah me.

That anyone would volunteer to hear

What now results, is stunning. How I hate

The way I sound! And no, it's not my gear

(A Blue Snowflake is good, and, just of late,

I've made myself a pop filter); oh no!

Humiliated pride's what runs the show.

In Which I Am Sick Of Listening To Myself

Some vocal chords, a throat, a head, each set

A little diff'rent, so our voices come

To sound just as they do. And when we get

To spend a day a-list'ning, they sound dumb

To us who bear them. Podcast marathons

Are exercises in humility.

Misspeakings, grunts, just sounding like morons,

Or losing track of character, ah me.

That anyone would volunteer to hear

What now results, is stunning. How I hate

The way I sound! And no, it's not my gear

(A Blue Snowflake is good, and, just of late,

I've made myself a pop filter); oh no!

Humiliated pride's what runs the show.

Meta Sonnet: In Which My Time Management Skills Are Lacking

Today I've no excuse; I'm merely late
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.

In Which Is Considered Podcrit

Podcasting as an art's still fairly new;
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.

In Which I Tease The Paradise Tossed Boys Just A Little Bit

My name does not seem that hard to pronounce,

But it was rendered as it is by one

Most hard to gainsay (Gladys Belle, who'd pounce

I'm sure, on John and Cameron -- no fun

To be had 'neath my grandma's glare). I'm told

It once rhymed with a British store, but now

It's with a phrase like "Hate Your God" (I hold

That as the funniest, so that is how

I tell people to say it). That is not

What I am here to sonnetize today,

However. What I really find as hot

Is listening to great big nerds at play.

The Paradise Tossed podcast with me, here,

Is live right now! Such giggling and such cheer!

In Which I Am A Few Hours Late With More Birthday Wishes

He named a zombie-killer after me

In his new book, James Melzer did, and I

Am flabbergasted still. How can this be?

But J.J. is that kind of crazy guy,

Unleashing podcast madness nonpareil,

First fiction, now he's doing interviews.

About to make a big splash all the while:

His zombie book's already in the news.

Permuted Press teamed up with Pocket Books

To bring it out in style next spring. Hurray!

You won't believe it when it gets its hooks

In you. His birthday was just yesterday.

Dear James, though this is a few hours late,

Just, thank you, and I hope that it was great!

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Bluff My Way Through Some Chat Show Aftermath

Ostensibly we gathered round to talk

On art and commerce and just what went wrong

With Fincher's Alien 3. It did rock

Though we digressed a bit as five quite strong

Artistic types will do. Then came a thought:

Since Ridley Scott is who's been picked to helm

A prequel Alien, who really ought

To take Sigourney Weaver's role? A realm

Of possibilities occured: J Roth Cornet?

Ann Hathaway? I won't embarrass Brent

By saying who he picked; you'll hear it yet

When CUT goes live. Then Tim Coyne went

With Minka Kelly, who I'd never think(a)

But sure, by all means, go link(a) with Minka.

Gutenberg Did Not Invent Printing, Either

Today we woke somewhat surprised to find
That Little, Brown invented a new style
Of publishing: the podcast novel. Mind,
We all had thought this happened quite a while
Ago. But Sarah Shrubb insisted they were first,
Which makes us ponder what it is that we
Were hearing at Podiobooks. The worst,
Of half-assed Google searches, sure, would be
Enough to prove this wrong. I'll bet Bi Sheng
Would be just as surprised to learn that Herr
Johannes Gutenberg had baldly wrung
A claim to type invention; ah, but there
I stray into rank silliness. We know
'Twas Morris, Sigler, Jeffrey made it go.

In Which Is Discovered A Brand New Species

It took podcasting weekly to allow

Me to discover this, a wholly new

And quite unwelcome species. Just for now

Dellrange dumbasicus will have to do

Until Linneans rule on this, my name

For this most noxious creature I so loathe.

Cockroaches, slugs, ants, mice, all have ill-fame

Most undeserved; they've vital roles. I'll clothe

In shame this creature in their stead, one which

Hath no redeeming virtues. All is noise

And fumes where'er it travels. Yes I bitch

In vain against the thund'ring, speeding cars

That ruin my recording tries for hours.

In Which I Plug My Podcast

I'm told I need a podcast promo if
I'm e'er to have some list'ners to my show,
Which want I must, else why do all this? Sniff!
It's lonely there without you all, I know!
So when you've done delighting these, your ears
With this program, whyever won't you click
On over to hear Kate of Mind? Your fears
Are groundless, I assure you. It's no trick:
Just iambic pentameter for us,
The modern generation (mostly nerds).
You know you want to listen. What's the fuss?
Some science, silliness and made-up words
In sonnet form are surely what you need!
Your weekly dose of geekdom's in the feed.