February 02, 2008


I haven't been here in a while. Apparently, no one else has, either.

Joe - I'm stunned! I always thought it would be tremendously difficult to part with your sperm in such a way, no?

(How sad is this. I am commenting on a post from 3 years ago.... yikes! The little Joes could be mobile by now!)

June 02, 2006

Pretty pretty:::::::::::::::

June and July are busy gift-buying months for me. There are the family birthdays, a couple of graduations this year and two wedding showers to attend.

Jewelry is always a good choice [it's been scientifically proven that it is impossible to have too many pairs of earrings]. They've got to be special earrings, though..nothing you can pick up on any street corner or department store counter.

Aussie-turned-LA jewelry designer Victoria Button's work combines prettiness, good design and affordability--along with a slightly subversive sense of humor. I like her "Knit--The Necklace", which combines images from vintage knitting catalogs. The "Shop-Aholic" earrings are part semi- precious stones; part [parts] of plastic frequent shopping cards.

Order online at: www.OriginalJewels.com

May 16, 2006

The Beany

My Internet friend Michael Nobbs lives in a town in Wales that's impossible to pronounce. I can't remember exactly where we met [I think it was via Danny Gregory's blog. In any case, I've been enjoying his blog and his 'blog-in-print' The Beany for quite a while.

One of Michael's gifts is the ability to discover the special in the ordinary. His life isn't very dramatic, mostly sketching, drinking tea and dealing with a chronic disease. The Beany offers what the best writing does: a glimpse into the life of another. Read The Beany and you'll feel as if you have a friend in an unpronounceable Welsh town.


February 23, 2006

A Jew Walks Into a Bookstore:::

Brenda Coulter’s blog ‘No Rules. Just Write’ http://brendacoulter.blogspot.com
is one of my favorite stops in the blogosphere, and where I heard about her plan to blog-promote her second novel A Family Forever http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0373873581, I signed on.

I write romance [not published—yet] and I read a lot of romance, but this is the first inspirational novel I’ve ever read in full. I’m Jewish and inspirationals are targeted to Christians—primarily evangelical/born again Christians. I was interested to see if an inspirational could hold my interest strictly as a novel or whether the Christianity was so much a part of it that t couldn’t be ignored. Could the romance trump Jesus for a non-believer reader?

I found it could, mostly. I cared about the heroine and hero, even though their predicament seemed slightly implausible. When Shelby Franklin’s fiancé David is killed just three weeks prior to their wedding, his brother Tucker does the ‘honorable’ thing and marries her, even though Shelby agrees to a MINO [Marriage in name only]. This is because Shelby is pregnant—the result of the single time she and David were intimate. To me, that sounds like a scenario out of the 50’s, but apparently it resonates for evangelical readers.

Eventually, Shelby learns to love Tucker for himself. He’s loved her all along. There’s an HEA [Happily Ever After] ending, something all romance genres and sub-genres share. If you don’t get that, you’re not a romance reader.

I liked this book and I'm glad I took the time to read it. Brenda has a light and engaging style, and a gift for creating characters you care about.

Brenda’s website is http://brendacoulter.com/

February 18, 2006

Photo Friday: B A B Y

I know, I know…there are people who thing the only real babies are the human kind. I respectfully disagree. This is mine.

'If you want a friend, get a dog.'

--Harry Truman

February 12, 2006

Photo Friday: {B L U R}}}}

I’m terribly nearsighted, so much of what I see when my glasses are off is a blur. I don’t mind, most of the time.

In the case, the blurriness is the algae’s fault.

February 04, 2006

Photo Friday [Disguise]

These pear blossoms fall from the tree, drift off and cover the sidewalks and lawns and driveways of Southern California suburbia. They look like snowflakes.

(For Photo Friday: Disguise.)

February 01, 2006

Vanity [Photo Friday]

A few items from the pile of stuff that I buy [and sometimes use] in an attempt to look 'better'.

Better than what?

Better than I look without the stuff.

(For Photo Friday: Vanity.)

January 21, 2006

Pinkish pink.

Photo Friday's theme this week is Pink. This is some sort of plant growing in an ordinary yard of an ordinary house on an ordinary street in suburbia, U.S.A.

It seems that the Internet has made us all artists. That's a good thing, I suppose.

January 19, 2006

Coming back?

Hope so.

January 13, 2006

It's hard to tell/when you're in the spell/if it's wrong or if it's real:::::::::::

January 03, 2006

A new year.

Feliz ano nuevo from Joy and Orla Bean. We've been awfully busy, but promise to post more regularly.

December 03, 2005

October 05, 2005

Cesspools of evil and sin.

I'm still convinced that there are hidden areas beneath New York city filled with gatherings for secret cults and rituals, or grounds for the rendezvous of otherworldly beings, or dirty cesspools of evil and sin deviantly practiced by humans so perverse and deranged that only a civilized society could create them. Personally, this doesn't trouble me. I admit, I'm not really bothered by evil and sin, so long as it doesn't affect me. If these evil cults try to capture me and put me on an arcane stone altar and try to impale me through the chest with some sort of sado-phallic torture wand, then the evil has become personal and I do take their very presence as a personal affront. But fortunately for me being neither female nor virgin, I am a less popular victim. Because most underground cults and satanic paganists (or other worshippers of evil superbeings and Lovecraftian deities) have remained fairly insulated from the recent advances in equal rights and feminism, they tend still to be patriarchal, androcentric organizations. As well, because they have been insulated themselves from much of the post-modern and pre-existential dissimulations and deconstructions of traditional metaphysics, they still hold on to a rather dated notion of purity and its respective superiority over impurity. Hence, this explains their predilections, still extant after all these years, for female virgin sacrifices. So, unless there's some radical questioning of their traditional values in their ranks and they start to believe that the elimination of female virgins is a terrible waste since there really aren't enough to go around (and there seem to get fewer and fewer and younger and younger as the years go by) and they instead start pursuing, for their sacrifices, ugly white guys who've barely had enough sex to make them not virgins (which makes a lot more sense), then I'm safe, and I don't have to fret myself over the spreading pestilence of evil brewing just below the sidewalk. So, as long as unlikely change in victims occurs, the evil is just something to think about when you're sitting down counting your change and a quarter falls out of your hand and rolls down the sidewalk and falls into a grate and you can see where it lands and think to yourself, "if I put my whole arm through that grate, I can just reach it." I, personally, would let the quarter go, and would consider it as an offering to one of those indifferent super-beings that occasionally pass into our world and reek havoc on small New England towns. Maybe these beings will, in fact, not look derisively down upon our primitive form of exchange through currency made of cheap metal, and will in fact take it as a symbolic token of appreciation so that one day when Manhattan is being callously trampled upon by an other-dimensional being in a spirit of playful abandon akin to an eight-year-old destroying an ant hill, then this thing will see me and remember the quarter and step over me instead of upon me. You never know.
(Image Source.)

I Don't Think So [Britney]

I was reading a copy of Allure magazine in a doctor's waiting room last week. Talentless skank Britney Spears was on the cover. I know, I should have stopped reading. I know I shouldn't have read the page about what she said at the photo shoot. I know I should have, but I didn't. I know I shouldn't care that she's quoted as saying 'I don't think so...' when a Johnny Cash CD was played.

Just wait Britney. Just wait.

September 19, 2005

My Sperm

Recently I took it upon myself to look into this issue of sperm donation. Some surprising things emerged from my investigation. First of all, I discovered that the process of becoming a sperm donor is a rigorous and selective process tantamount the rigors of applying to graduate school in philosophy; except where a grad school will judge you on your skills at writing academic papers, looking closely into philosophical thought, and sycophancy, a fertility clinic will test you on your sperms general vitality (quantity, motility, ability to be frozen and thawed), your overall health, and your genes. Similar to grad school they only accept about 5% of their applicants, and, like grad school, only the best are even applying. In order to apply, you have to be tall enough (preferably 5'10" and over), you must have no venereal diseases (or, preferably, diseases in general), you must be young (obviously you must be over 18, but you probably don't want to be much past the age of 30), and you must be male (though I suppose if you were a female who was able to produce sperm, they might be interested in you).

Now, I write this in preface and stress that the rigors of sperm donation application require you to have the virility of a frothing bull and the health of a Greek god, precisely to accentuate my level of gloating. Yes, I've applied. And, no, I haven't passed all of the tests, but I passed that oh so critical first one: the one in which you deposit you're sperm into a cup and they look at it minutely and decide whether it can find and penetrate a certain tiny little egg in the dark. Maybe you all think it a broach of good taste that I should boast so pompously brag about something which is best left to bedroom conversation ("you know honey, it just lacks the bold complexity and subtle mix of flavors that my last boyfriend's had"), and that I should stop it right here. But I can't contain my joy. I want to sound my barbaric rawp over the rooftops of the world, I'm so gleeful. This is such a boost to my ego. I wish there was like a shirt I could wear that would announce to women my general vitality and vigor: "The few, the proud, the SPERM DONORS." Or if I could start a club, a fraternity of other men who are themselves of this elite clique.

I only went in for the first step of my pre-screening last Wednesday, but I've entertained this idea for a long time. Ridg himself can attest that I openly admitted at Goucher that I liked the idea of becoming a sperm donor so that there might be as many as possible of my genetic kindred running around. Now I realize the folly of my waiting so long. Whereas, I could have, if I had acted upon that thought immediately, actually managed to donate at quite of number of different clinics in cities across the country (Baltimore, Houston, Denver, San Francisco, Albuquerque), nay even in countries all over Europe. I could by this time have dozens of little Joe's running around wondering about their true father, and deep in their heart aching after me to complete them. And then I could, through subtlety and subterfuge somehow manage to contact them after they have grown and one day call them all together to fulfill that purpose which they've always felt but never been quite able to put into words, forming a small army of philosophy geniuses, yearning for the opportunity to unite with me in taking over the world. But, I've waited too long. My sperm are only good for a few more years and I may just have to settle for a modest number of Joe-2s strategically placed in key positions of power manipulating the course of world events. It's disappointing, but I'll have to accept it.

September 09, 2005


Is anyone good with Photoshop or other software? I want to make a coin with Bush on it of the non-cents denomination. Get it? Nonsense. Ha, I kill me.
Don't mean to get political. You gotta admit it would be funny to have Clinton on one if you are a Bush fan.

September 06, 2005


Oligarchy. It's poopy. What do I mean in bringing it up and calling it poopy?
Me not know.
Where everyone go?

August 22, 2005

Is this shoplifting?

This was a test posting. I need to download some pics.

I took this one in a little silver mining town in the Sierra Madre Mountains when I was in Mexico last October. I can't remember the name of the town, but it was a former ghost town slowly making a comeback. I mean slowly. We saw maybe ten people in the whole town. I know I didn't really post about the trip. I loved Mexico and would go back in a second, but my family and I were so overcome with the begging and poverty there. Especially in this area.

We were there as part of a day trip during our stop in Mazatlan. Our tour stopped here for lunch (prearranged by the cruiseline) at a little family owned place. The food was fantastic and the beer was so welcome. This donkey in the picture, though, belonged to a little boy who would go up to people in these tour groups that stop here on their way further up the mountain and ask, in very broken English, if they wanted to take his picture on the donkey. After people said yes and took his picture, he would then follow them around for the remainder of the tour in this town demanding two dollars.

It really made me think twice about coming back home and buying jewelry from a specific silver company when I saw the exact bracelet I had bought from them for $40 in this mining town being sold for $3... by the family that crafted it. It made me wonder, is it Americans taking advantage of these miners? Or is it other Mexicans?

Like I said, the cruiseline had prearranged all of our day excursions and stops and more than once I felt these people's poverty was being commercialized and put on display for us. And I do mean poverty in some cases (not just differences in economics or lifestyles).

Enough. I now know how to post more pictures.

Chao-chou's Bridge

I'm sorry to hear about the ill-fated coin toss. While I struggled to find comforting words, one of my favorite Zen quotations came to mind. I got it from my 2003 Zen desk calendar (Johnny may recognize it, I believe he had the same one)... there's something so commercially wrong with that. But anyways, it's insightful, and profound, and worthy of mention at a time like this.

A monk asked Chao-chou: "I've been hearing about Chao-chou's bridge for a long time, but now that I am here all I see is a log."

Chao-chou said: "You see the log, but you don't see the stone bridge."

The monk asked: "What is the stone bridge?"

Chao-chou said: "It lets donkeys cross; it lets horses cross."

- Zen Mondo