Sunday, February 28, 2010


The soil in the garden is turned and tilled again (and again). Compost and mulch is added. Preparations continue.

Saturday, February 27, 2010


The garden was planned and plotted today. Seeds were purchased. The soil was turned and tilled. The raspberry vines were thinned.

Tomorrow will bring more garden preparations...

Troy's Work Table planned out locations for seeds, plantings, and plants.

The Child did the same, adding a symbolic formula at the top of the page: sun + rain + love.

Friday, February 26, 2010

MD vs. GSS

Moby Dick (created by The Child) versus The Giant Space Squid (created by TWT).

Thursday, February 25, 2010


5/8 of Les sardines discuss one Sardine's new poem.


The group met at Mosaic Community Coffeehouse from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. on Thursday 25 February 2010, minus those members touched with The Plague.

Parking was ample. The space was described by one Sardine as a "cross between a coffeehouse and a library," which was a compliment. The group had its own table and used it well. What appeared to be a rival writing group met across the room. (We may or may not have challenged them to an upcoming game of flag football. Most likely not.)

There was some concern expressed previously and electronically about the theme "Cat Spritzer" for issue #2 of Les Sar'Zine. The group decided that "Cat Spritzer" would indeed be the theme, with multiple members already at work on pieces. One Sardine reminded us that, as a theme, each individual can "load" the term "Cat Spritzer" with whatever meaning she or he wants. Consensus determined that such was valuable.

The question was raised about length of pieces for upcoming issues of Les Sar'Zine. It was loosely determined that if someone has material for more than one book, then it would be entertained, but that particular individual would be responsible for all additional folding and manufacturing of said extra books.

One Sardine provided two writing prompts. The first was Writing Prompt #115 (by Carolee Sherwood) from the Read Write Poem website. The second was writing prompts from Facebook status updates of the friend (H.M.C.) of one Sardine.
The H.M.C. Writing Prompt

Your new piece of writing—essay, novel, short story, poem, blog post, menu—begins with (or contains) one of the following sets of lines:

*I'm so done with brains. Brains make me sick. You can take the brain stem, crainial nerves and nervous system too, while you are at it.

* Again. A problem with the cork. It must be the cheap wine.

*Drinks downtown and feeling like a grown up! It's been a while!

*I've been invited to throw things occasionally. Pillows though. Not shoes or plates.
The group wrote on these prompts or another topic of choice for thirty minutes.

Three sardines presented new material for brief bouts of reading and feedback. One Sardine provided a new poem. One Sardine provided revisions and new material for an evolving short story cum novella cum novel (perhaps). One Sardine provided a new essay. Feedback seemed more intense, more personal, and more engaged than recent meetings. The new space and the new form of meeting may have granted the group a new sense of freedom and a new sense of possibility, but that is merely conjecture of one Sardine.

A few final "informational" business items ended the evening. The group departed into the night streets of Wallingford.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


In the periodical stacks of University of Puget Sound's Collins Memorial Library. Photograph by The Child.

"The pages of a book shield us from the distractions that bombard us during most of our waking hours. As an informational medium, the book focuses our attention, encouraging the kind of immersion in a story or an argument that promotes deep comprehension and deep learning."
—from "The Medium Matters" by Nicholas Carr, as found on the NYT Room for Debate blog



I read online and I jump from bit to bit, byte to byte, pixel to pixel. I hyperlink. I fall down one rabbit hole and then another. Soon, I am so far from my starting point that the mind boggles.

I have to jot notes to myself on scraps of paper, Post-it® notes, the backs of envelopes to provide myself reference points. I have to click "back" to return and then "return" again. Two steps forward and two steps back.

Wasn't I just here? Wasn't I just here? Wasn't I just here? Wait... Wasn't I just here?

I leave digital crumbs for my Hansel-und-Gretel avatar.

Tiny crawler bots pick them up, scour them, devour them, digest them.

I turn and there is nothing there: a blank slate, tabula rasa. Welcome to the new world order.


I like the physicality of books. I like the tactile memory that they impart to me.

I can flip through the pages of a book I have read and locate myself in print, in place. Try to do that with your digital book. Sure, you can "search" it for a particular word, but what if you don't know where it is at? How do you orient yourself without stars, constellations?


I like the intimacy of one relationship at a time. I want breadth and depth. Shallow doesn't suit me. I want time. I want investment. I want real estate.

Virtual fails me.