The Bathtub

The Bathtub.

Hushpuppy, her daddy Wink, Jean Battiste, Miss Bathsheba, the wild Aurochs. Beasts of the Southern Wild. Thinking on all y'all tonight. Despite my friends who disliked your story, I still hold on to liking it. It's a good story. Without being overly philosophical, by responding to the narrative with my heart instead of my mind, I lean into a little girl's words of wisdom and courage and spirit, and I feel glad.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Buckets Of Rain

It's raining and raining and raining today. Snowing everywhere else but here it's all rain. Buckets. No joke. And for every raindrop, there's a tear in the world. For the sweet children of Sandy Hook, for poet Jake Adam York, for those in Syria. There's even the murmur of Doomsday, the last day ever. And just for that, since life is too short, here's a little Dylan.

Buckets of rain
Buckets of tears
Got all them buckets coming out of my ears
Buckets of moonbeams in my hand
You got all the love honey baby
I can stand.

I been meek
And hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive friends will disappear
If you want me honey baby
I'll be here.

I like your smile
And your fingertips
I like the way that you move your hips
I like the cool way you look at me
Everything about you is bringing me
Misery.

Little red wagon
Little red bike
I ain't no monkey but I know what I like
I like the way you love me strong and slow
I'm taking you with me honey baby
When I go.

Life is sad
Life is a bust
All ya can do is do what you must
You do what you must do and ya do it well
I'll do it for you honey baby
Can't you tell?

Open Letter to Red States Revisited

Here we go again…

There is a letter going around. An updated version of the same letter that came out after Barack Obama was elected in 2008. It goes on and on about what is wrong with the red states, many of them southern, and what is right about the blue states, many of them northeastern. The only problem with its logic, or lack thereof, is that blue states are mostly blue cities surrounded by red countryside. Granted, this is coming from someone who now lives in Ohio, in a blue city, who was born in Florida, in a blue town, and who was raised in Louisiana, in the bluest city ever, which has as much to do with the surrounding water as with political preferences. 

The “open letter” is supposed to be funny, I know. And yet, I take it now just like I did in 2008: as divisive, troublesome, wrong-headed, and not really all that funny. Besides, if the blue states separated themselves from the red states, they’d miss out on Delta blues, Mardi Gras Indians, Dixieland jazz, hushpuppies, cornbread, soft-shell blue crab and some of that other gorgeous seafood that only comes from the Gulf of Mexico and the gorgeous meals that are only cooked up and served in the south, and a way of life that is based on a sense of place and a slower rhythm and neighbors that call to each other from their porches and stoops to come have an iced coffee, a slice of pecan pie.  

The south defines who a lot of us are, and despite what self-righteous, blue-minded folks might think, I would move back home in a minute, to the big bathtub of wrong-minded, red-tinted fools. Because no matter where we live, we surround ourselves with like-minded friends, and if you have to color your friends, mine are of many hues, none of which include blue or red. How about the black and gold of a football team?  How about the rose-gold of a sunset over the Mississippi River? How about the dark brown roux of a shrimp-and-okra gumbo? Those colors make a lot more sense to me.  

There’s no less appreciation for all that is northeastern. When we want to see Broadway shows, hear Harvard lectures, eat Maine lobster, we’ll go and visit our friends in the so-called blue states, which are perhaps known better for their wry humor, intellectual asides, and cerulean waterways. We don't have to live there to share the same views. But we also don’t have to be unkind to each other, based on where we live or come from or would rather be.

Just sayin’.

late at night, a message to my cousin

Now,

my intention was to write a nice letter and then send it with a stamp and all

Not happening.

And so

you get this email instead.

Well.

I did love your note about the shiny pine cone ornament 
and things being tricky
and having a family skate.

Now a skate with my cousin would indeed be a thing.
Can we please plan that please for the please future.

Please?

In skates we can write letters and notes
and stop on a stamp
and do tricky things
and hear the ice saying, between sighs,
oh, cousin this and cousin that,
how about a little figure 8?
a little spin
arm in arm
and laughing
and not even cold

especially because
you are laughing so much that I am, too.

haha ha ha haha  


- xox, K

The 2nd Half of December - Reverie 2011

Swallowed alive by the holidays, and so in a nutshell, here are the rest of my Reverie 2011 musings.  For each day’s topic, a few words of response or less.

Choice – writing

Protest – against SB5 - Ohio Workers' Rights - & for environmental awareness along the Gulf Coast

Solstice – so dark, so bright

Technology – iEverything!

Service – the Gulf Coast: wetland restoration awareness 

Bizarro – miscommunications

History I – Japan and the tsunami, Gulf Coast restoration, the deaths of Liz Taylor and Amy Winehouse and Steve Jobs, violence in Arizona, revolution in Egypt, tragedy in Norway, the Brits and their Royal wedding, the end of bin Laden, U.S. troops returning home

History II – reading, writing, places to workshop and write from San Francisco to Acadia

History III – short story publications, editing work, blog posts, nearly finishing the novel, traveling on West and East coasts, children's milestone birthdays and daughter's college graduation

Dreams – teaching, traveling, finally going back home to New Orleans, writing words that others want to read and that will hopefully make a difference

Table of Contents – Chapter title for 2011 – “The Year of Seven Stories”

A Day to Delete – the day the bizarro miscommunications began

New Year’s Eve 2010 – I could’ve been home – in New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl and bringing in 2011 – but I stayed alone at my desk in Columbus, writing and writing.  It took an entire year for me to regret this.  Serious delayed reaction.  Sometimes getting-things-done at the expense of not-visiting-your-mama is just-not-worth-it.  So 2012’s theme might just be, Make-Sure-There-Ain’t-No-Room-for-Regrets!