Google, Tell Me.
I do not understand one single thing about this convicted murderer’s execution in Ohio today.
Women at work: Lyrical Confessions of an Erstwhile Renegade, my first essay as Editor-at-Large for SynaptIQ+: The Journal for Social Era Knowledge, was published online in the Winter 2013 issue.
“Had I spent my time trying to out-sex, out-nubile, out-Va Va Voom other girls and women?” – Giselle Minoli, Women…
My connections and friendships with other writers on Google+ are two of my favorite things about this platform.
They told me a long time ago, they didn’t like me and I would never get it.
There is something lovely that happens when you ask to take someone’s picture, instead of merely trying to capture a…
Saturday she appeared
Every evening I must weigh
A Woman’s Worth was published online in the August 2013 issue of SynaptIQ+: The Journal for Social Era Knowledge.
There must be a way
Morning
Morning, everyone
We are lying on our backs looking up into the pastel-hued interior of The Guggenheim spiral.
What would come to mind if I were to ask each of you what inspires you?
This morning
Splendid Isolation is the choreographer Jessica Lang’s dance tribute to the marriage between Gustav Mahler, the…
I haven’t read Mason Currey’s Daily Rituals, from which Marnie Hanel created This by That: Writers by Daily Starting…
You don’t really see me
In a garden there are manners.
An exquisitely choreographed dance between a man and a woman.
“I want to be alone. I just want to be alone” – Greta Garbo, Grand Hotel
So what is the purpose of men in modern families?
A friend recently confessed that she didn’t think she could ever write nonfiction, which is highly personal, because…
Evening, Thursday, 6:30pm EST.
It is articles like this one that are killing the sexual desire of women.
The news did not exactly come as a shock. I had filed away the possibility that his life would end one day in the part of my brain reserved for things I simply did not want to think about happening. A less willful, less stubborn, less enthusiastically alive man would have long ago succumbed to the many illnesses he had endured over the last 2 decades. His ability to push back had convinced me that nothing could kill him. An email in mid-March relaying that he was in hospice care switched on the emotional regulator that controlled my reservoir of memories about him, sending through a few at a time, as though dropping them into my consciousness in a metered manner would avoid a flood tide the day he finally decided to part this Earth.
A length of leg.
Five Talented Dancers + an Empty Warehouse + the Countryside + a Video Camera x the Human Condition = Gravity of Center, a choreographed site specific conversation between 3 men and 2 women. It’s impossible to explore this kind of movement in a traditional studio or theatre space. Remove dance from a constrained space, no matter how well-designed the set, and “stage” it in nontraditional indoor and outdoor spaces and the movement conversation changes, expands and challenges the viewer.
“People read with their ears, whether they know it or not.” – William Zinsser, On Writing Well
Mornin’ my writing friends.
Morning
Cheers, everyone
Good morning, everyone
I wrote A Woman’s De-Liberation: There Never Was a Sexual Revolution in stupefied disbelief that Sheryl Sandberg, the successful and highly educated woman at the COO helm of the legendary FaceBook, would write Lean In, a modern feminist call-to-arms, in which she essentially claims that women, individually and collectively, are not occupying their rightful place at the top of the business world next to men because they do not know how to use their negotiating skills to their professional advantage.
This assertion flies in the face of what I have personally witnessed in business over the course of the last 35 years of my life, during which time I have seen scores of brilliant, visionary and highly assertive women be turned down repeatedly for seats at the top for reasons that have nothing to do with their lack of skill or their unwillingness to be assertive, and everything to do with the massive support structure that men provide one another…a support structure that is unavailable to women because there simply are not enough of them in top management to provide a supportive structure for other women coming up the ladder.
Hello, everyone
I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan – and never, ever let you forget you’re a man, ’cause I’m a woman.
My friend Kena Herod got me reminiscing about all of the African American dancers I admire with her recent post…
Sunday morning musings…
When I was 15 Nathaniel West’s The Day of the Locust had such an impact on me I imagined that were I to venture a trip to Los Angeles, Tod Hackett, Faye Greener and their entire entourage of misfit friends would greet me at the train station. My childhood in Northern New Mexico was one from which I was desperate to escape, where Cowboys and Indians were real, not the stuff of Hollywood movies we would watch at a drive-in theatre with the help of a speaker attached to a rolled down car window. While I knew that the American Southwest fostered a kind of mythic appeal for the endless stream of Easterners arriving to set down roots under its majestic skies, I had grown up under that star-strewn ether and longed for something else, something far less real than the rodeos I attended on weekends, and West’s words had convinced me I would find that reality in the City of Angels.
Greet-Ings…
How bizarre that at the end of a musician’s long day – of practicing and perfecting their craft – they might have to…
Of all the books I own – I’m a weirdo who still buys hardcover and paperback books – there are a few short works…
Greetings Googlers
The days are getting longer and I am suddenly thinking about her again, harbinger of Spring and Summer that her species is. I killed her last October. Not intentionally, but in the end it hardly mattered the deed was done.
0 degrees and another glorious sunrise, which began with deep orange-red, turned redder, faded to rose-pink, then pale yellow and lifted soon enough to a white light. Your sun, wherever you are, has been or will be the same, but will announce its arrival differently, as it will its departure at the end of our individual and collective day.
I have been thinking about Richard Blanco’s poem, One Today since he read it at the inauguration yesterday. His words took me back to my childhood in Northern New Mexico – the Southern end of the Rockies – where many families were linked to the Earth in some way. Gardens were for growing vegetables, not just flowers. Acreage was often for chickens, and therefore eggs, and cows or goats, and therefore milk and cheese, and horses, and therefore alfalfa.
Morning
Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words. – Mark Twain
Stealing is stealing, whether you use a computer command or a crowbar, and whether you take documents, data or…
Alone (almost) on McClures Beach, Pt. Reyes National Seashore…
Good morning from Pt. Reyes
The first time I heard Tracy Chapman sing Baby Can I Hold You Tonight I cried.
Mornin’ (again)
“I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
“I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Ho Ho Ho! Nizhonigo Keshmish Baahózhó Doo Nínanahí, as the Navajos would say…
Grumpy the Gargoyle sends Christmas Greetings to Googlers everywhere, from his home in the Shenandoah Valley…
Good morning, everyone
Morning, everyone
If you want someone to accompany you on your journey through life
Do Less and Let the Music Shine
Greetings, Googlers
Presidential Election Eve, 2012
Good Sunday morning, post-Sandy…and pre-the Rest of Our Lives
Greetings Googlers…
Hello, everyone, post-Felix Baumgartner jump and mid- Dallas/Baltimore game
How can I lightheartedly clack out “Good Morning” like I usually do after watching this video in the Times about a…
