In honor of the last day of National Poetry Month, I'm posting one of my favorite poems, Leda and The Swan by W.B. Yeats. Revel in the beauty, fellow poetristas!!

Leda and the Swan

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By his dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
How can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins, engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
           Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?


Got a dirty little secret that you just need to dish?

Tell everyone about it and get y'self a group hug.

What is it with people with kids who think the whole world is responsible for raising them? Our town is in the middle of trying to pass its budget for next year. When we moved into our new house, we figured we should subscribe to the town's paper so we would be hip to all of the happenings in our town. It turns out that not a whole lot happens in our neck of Connecticut, except for a police blotter of a lot of drunk driving arrests on the main road that runs through town, and then there was the week that some giant sow was on the front page because she was down at the town green for all of the kids to come and pet. I think her name was Dolly. Most of the time I don't read the paper. We usually stockpile about 4 weeks' worth before SweetieKins decides that they need to be recycled, so he sits down on a Saturday and spends an hour combing through them for relevant info. He's pretty much interested in the same things I am, whether we know anyone in the police blotter, and what kind of zoning happenings are being bandied about among the townsfolk. The paper is pretty good at keeping track of things like the budget (proposed education cuts and an increase in high-tech equipment for the police who have to deal with all of the drunk drivers in our town) and any new construction proposals (we moved out into the psuedo country so that we would be away from but close to the bustle, and want to keep our burg on the sleepy side of the spectrum), but one thing he noticed with all of the recent budget votes is that all of the letters to the editor are about how the townsfolk are outraged that they cut millions of dollars from the school budget (while the superintendent makes more money that he should be making). As a member of society, I do want to live among people who are educated, I just don't feel I should have to pay for other people's children. If I were a town elder, i would pass a law that would let people stipulate where and how they want to use their tax money. Mine would go for roads and public service jobs, not for schools and senior centers and high-tech law enforcement equipment for a town with no real crime.


I don't normally think of myself as getting older. I mean, I know I am, but it's not something that I think too much about. And when I do, I tend to find comfort in that I have learned a lot of things over the years, and I was a pretty foolish teenager, as most people are. I don't look at aging as necessarily a bad thing. I wouldn't mind having the body that I did when I was 19, or at the very least the spine of the boy I once was, but I would never trade back the knowledge I have acquired over the years. However: A coworker today was showing me an article she wrote, which involved some statistical information on a study. One of the demographic delineators was male, age 18-34. I realized that this September, i will be moving into a new demographic, 35-50. I will no longer be lumped in with the 18 year-olds. I'll be sharing space with the 50 year-olds. And while I may not want to be 18 again, I'm not so sure I am ready for 50!


Which famous homosexual are you?

I'm Eleanor Roosevelt.

I'm a lesbian first lady. Woo
Which Famous Homosexual are you?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

A Roosevelt yourself, you married your fifth cousin Franklin; despite the obvious incestuous overtones, your six kids were happy and healthy.

When Franklin got elected, you became perhaps the most controversial first lady ever - you spoke out for the rights of women; for the rights of the poor; for world peace. You were even a member of a union while your husband was in office - and when he died, you were the head of the UN Commission on Human Rights.

All of which is pretty kick ass, but to top things off you had a hot and steamy relationship with the lesbian journalist Lorena Hickok, who was so madly in love with you that she halted her career for you. Unfortunately, you couldn't give up your public life that easily - leaving her heartbroken.



Do you feel safe?

Because I don’t. It’s not even a matter of global safety, though I don’t feel safe on that level, with our president basically on a road to warring with every nation on the planet, but a matter of personal safety. I don’t feel proud to live in this country anymore. I was reading something the other day about the instances of gay-bashing being on the rise since the whole gay marriage debate was thrust into the public sphere with Bush’s anti-gay amendment. The man is just truly evil. I resent someone who has never met me calling me a sinner, especially when I don’t define sin in the same way. I don’t even think I would ever use the word sin in a conversation since I don’t buy into all that religious nonsense. There are good things that happen in this world, and bad things, but sin? I don’t know how anyone could be so morally righteous. But there was George Bush, standing in front of the country, calling me a sinner and basically giving people license to see me as a second-class citizen. I’m worthy of your pity, but I’m not worthy of your compassion. I’m worthy of your censure, yet I’m not worthy of your rights. I’m worthy of your judgment, and I’m not worthy of equal protection under the laws of our country. I’m worthy of paying your salary with my tax dollars, but I’m not worthy of getting the same benefits as a straight married couple who are also benefiting from my tax dollars.

Our president is a dangerous man. He believes jesus speaks directly to him, instructing how and why to run the country, the world. I don’t feel safe because our president is an arrogant fool and doesn’t understand the forest for the trees. He’s spent his entire life being sheltered and handed lofty positions by the people who surround and protect him. He doesn’t have a clue. He’s a man who can’t control his impulses, like alcohol, and therefore believes that everyone else needs to have their urges monitored and regulated. His agenda is to cater to the religious right, disregarding one of the fundamental tenets of our Constitution, separation of church and state.

Maybe I read too much, am on the Internet too much, watch too much news on television. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like I spend most days waiting for the bottom to drop out of the economy, or something to be dropped from the sky into another building, or someone to show up on my lawn burning a cross.

Am I exaggerating? I wish it were that simple.



The states in red are the ones I have personally visited. East coast, holla back, yo!!!

create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide


Subservient Chicken. This is really freaky. He won't vacuum, but he will do the Macarena, have a pillow fight, moonwalk and try to fly. He'll even do a sun salute if you type in "yoga." If you really want to get creeped out, just type the word "camera" and don't blame me if you can't sleep tonight.



Our new dog arrived the other day, which is part of the reason why I haven’t written in a while, just one more thing to contribute to the overwhelming busy-ness that I feel on a daily basis. But the new dog is pretty damn cute. And we needed a boy in our house. But now the balance of power has shifted. Dogs outnumber people (unless you discount Dax, who doesn’t think of herself as a dog).

We adopted Mr. Digby from a bizarre woman who acquired him from an actually crazy lady who used to keep him tied up to the coffee table all day. He doesn’t seem abused, maybe just a bit neglected. But supposedly Crazy Lady #1 surrendered her to Crazy Lady #2 because she had a stroke or died or something. I’m not sure exactly what the story is.

SweetieKins went to pick him up at the CL2’s house on Monday. He said the woman’s house is disgusting, very odiferous and rank, which could explain why Mr. Digby stinks the mighty dog-stink, or perhaps no one ever bathed him. His coat is very foul, you can just feel the grime on him even if you have lost your sense of smell and cannot smell him. But he just had the snip snip surgery last week and the vet said we can’t bathe him yet, the wound needs more time to heal. I feel bad for him because I want to bond with him and hold him and hug him, but every time I pick him up or pet him, I feel like I need to run to the sink and wash myself down.

But Senor Digby is adjusting well to his new home. The previous puppies alternate between pretending his isn’t there or sniffing him up and down trying to figure out what this tiny little thing is. I’m not sure if they have determined yet that he isn’t a new toy. This morning I took them all outside and in their excitement the older and larger dogs stepped all over Mr. D trying to get outside, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just goes with the flow. We haven’t had any accidents or puppy face-offs yet, and I’m hoping it continues that way. I was nervous about the new dog upsetting the precarious balance of our home, but I think Mr. Digby will just fold right in and as soon as he’s been bathed it’ll be like he’s been with us from the beginning.

Bonus: A Brief History of April Fool’s Day


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