Cicadasong

or, The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Poem about Cicadas.

You left your armor
clinging, empty
A hollow plaything
A zombie sentry

Now calling your lovers
to join in your song
Hordes in the trees
your voices are strong

Sing me to distraction
Sing me into dust
Sing to me all summer
for sing to me you must

When summer is gone
And you've done what you could
Your children will sleep safely
deep in the wood

Edited To Add: Wow. Perhaps I should have called it Cricketsong *crickets*. Anyway, who pronounces it cic-ay-da, and who pronounces it cic-ah-da?

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Seventh

Please note - all Chronicles are stand-alones, you don't have to read any previous chapters to know what's going on.

Indulge me on this one, it's long but heartfelt.

Previous Chapters:
Chapter the First
Chapter the Second
Chapter the Third
Chapter the Fourth
Chapter the Fifth
Chapter the Sixth
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The Candysoda Tavern was cool & dark, even in the middle of the day. Princess Soda was sitting at the bar, grimly chugging drink after pink frothy drink and demanding more with a small fist slammed into the scarred wood of the bar-top. She glared belligerently around her and muttered foul imprecations under her breath.

A few stools down, Tennyson ee Hemingway the philosopher, in a battered leather hat with a band made of crocodile teeth, was nibbling thoughtfully on a huge slice of pavlova. He turned to the man next to him and said "Strewth Mo, what is the Princess doing in here? I didn't think she was a drinker!"

Mo was a dapper English fellow with a small sticky person in an orange & pink striped onesie clambering about his person. He replied "I only come in on Mo-days, but I heard she's been in here constantly the past few days and has to be carried out at closing time... The odd thing is, those are Shirley Temples she's shotgunning." Having imparted this wisdom, Mo sagely sipped his pint and returned to his favorite task of observing the colorful parade of people passing by the tavern.

Suddenly, down at the end of the bar, there was a puff of smoke and a loud bang. Mjenks the alchemist sat behind the now charred and smoking bar, a maniacal grin on his face. As the smoke cleared, he turned to the curvaceous redhead at his side and murmured "Vix a te videor posse tenere manus!"

Everyone politely averted their eyes from what occurred next.

As a lucky distraction, a commotion occurred that very minute. Outside the tavern, an oddly charming three-wheeled vehicle staggered to a halt in a sputtering cloud of fumes. An elderly gentleman with an impressive beard alighted and shuffled in to sit at the bar.

"You!" shouted the Princess, looking daggers at the old man. "She is lost to us because of you, Simon! Princess Teacup is gone because of your carelessness!" Princess Soda jumped down from the bar-stool, clenching her fists and stamping a tiny foot against the dark hardwood floor.

"I know," sobbed Simon. "And she was the most profitable, er, I mean sweetest, of my myriad illegitimate daughters as well."

Upon seeing his genuine grief, Princess Soda's rage evaporated. She and Simon embraced, and toasted to their dear lost Princess Teacup with huge foamy steins of Byron Bay lemonade.

And to make up for her ill humor, the Princess ordered a giant platter of Tim Tams for everyone in the bar.

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Tennyson, mo.stoneskin, INdefatigable mjenks & Simon: please accept this fine shield as proof of your Chroniclage.
Teacup my dear, I know you've quit blogging, but please continue to drop in here whenever you want.

Required reading

I think this article on playing the "race card", by Tim Wise, should be required reading for all Americans - if not, as I commented there, all humans (originally posted here, containing the reference material).

It's kind of long, especially for someone like me with a ridiculously short attention span, but he makes points that people simply need to hear.

You know, I wasn't going to shorthand it, but it's really long. I do desperately urge you to read the whole thing, but it does require a little time which you may not have right away. Basically it's a brilliant demolition of white America's attempts to write off any black American complaint of racism as "playing the race card". I was already aware in a general sense of how deeply race affects pretty much everything in America, but the statistics and situations he quotes are still pretty horrifying.

I know people do this, but I'm not sure why; perhaps it makes us uncomfortable to think we might have a hand in another person's suffering, but it's easier to dismiss or minimize their experiences rather than roll up our sleeves and work on stopping it.

When I was reading it I was reminded of a conversation I was involved in back in high school, where a (self-described) Australian-born Chinese girl asked our reasonably racially diverse (albeit all-girl) group to raise their hands if they had experienced racism directed towards them. Out of a group of about 20 or 30 girls*, every single non-Caucasian girl raised her hand.

Up until that moment, being a whitey myself and having been raised in a racially- but not politically-diverse environment, I had thought of racism as the province of history or the occasional old person. That moment stuck with me and was the beginning of my eyes being opened.

I will not apologize** for trying to open other people's eyes in the same way here on my blog, a space I consider my own. I can't force you to read the link, or to take away from it what I did, but it is my sincere hope that you do.


*I can't remember exact numbers. It was a long time ago, okay?!
**As sometimes bloggers feel they ought to when stating strong opinions. Why is that?

Bo-ring. Do another one about funny Aussie words!

I sometimes think about the secret inner life of humans, and bloggers in particular.

We share our most intimate and true thoughts, feelings and experiences with each other, and yet for the most part we don't really know each other at all.

Anyone walking down the street could be a blogger. Not just that but a blogger you've read. The chick who just sold you your venti Americano could be the most hilarious writer you'll ever read. The guy who fixes your computer could be a sweet, romantic soul. That soccer mom who jogs around your block every morning could be sharing the saucy details of her sex life or exploiting her children for humorous purposes. The dude you just bought stamps from might be a skilled photographer or a talented poet.

On the other side of the coin, you will be aware of the physical appearance of some bloggers whereas others prefer to keep their real identity extremely secret. Sometimes you will have been reading a blog for some time, and have formed a mental image of the person based on their writing - only to find out when they post a photo that your assumptions were startlingly inaccurate.

You cannot know what is in someone's soul on first acquaintance. As much as I love judging people*, being involved in blogging reminds me to be less judgmental of my fellow humans, because I have been invited inside people's private thoughts and been surprised at the depth and complexity of so many of you. Not to mention your intelligence and capacity to make me laugh (and cry, and sigh).

What's the point of this story? You guys rock. And don't let the real world tell you any different, because they don't know you like I do.


*It's kind of a hobby.

UPDATED: Blog malaise is the new swine flu (with a side of Over to You).

You guys, I think I have a touch of the blog burnout that's been going around.

I still want to write, and I still like reading other people's blogs... I'm just feeling like I'm off my game a bit. I can't think of any witty comments even when I really like a post (or even particularly witty replies to y'alls comments here), and I've no ideas stored up for my own future posts...

I usually have two or three drafts up my sleeve, and I've nothing!

Help me, blogosphere! What would you like to read on this delicious sugary pink blog of mine?

Should I do more odes?

More Soda Fountain of Knowledge (language or culture)?

More Blogisferia Chronicles? Is there anyone whose blog is in my reader list brave enough to put their hand up to be in the next Chronicle?

Or is there something I haven't written about that you want me to? Current events perhaps, or nano-celebrities like Jon & Kate Plus Eight Minus Jon?

Comments please!!! Oh yeah and the best (i.e. most helpful) comment wins a Sweet Blogger Award!!


That's right. I'm not above bribery.

UPDATE: also, crap. I was adding the well-fed graphic designer to my blog list and accidentally removed someone else, and I've no idea who it was. Can anyone tell who's missing over there?

Redact This.

Don't you hate it when bloggers write those posts that are all mysterious because they want to complain about something that's going on in their real life, but they can't give any details, because they don't want to give up their sweet precious anonymity*?

It's like the blogger's emotions are soldiers writing home to Ma, but the blogger's brain is the army, intercepting their letters and removing any potentially damaging information:



*Which is not to say that I don't understand why people do it. Or that I won't ever write such a post.

Really Hot.

Sometimes, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, the daddy does things to make the mummy happy...

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He squeezed the bottle over the hot water, smiling at her as she watched small mountains of bubbles rising from the surface. She swore she could almost feel the steam rising and making her skin hotter, or maybe it was just that she knew what he was going to do next.

"Oh yeah baby, you know I love it when you do that!" she purred.

She inhaled sharply, watching his hands as they worked slowly and surely over the dishes, lathering them with a luxurious foam and then sluicing steaming hot water all over them to rinse off the detergent. She loved the way the muscles in his strong forearms corded as he carefully placed each dish in the draining rack.

"That's not all I've got... I know you're gonna love this, you dirty girl." He winked at her and strode across the kitchen.

His long, sensitive fingers caressed and securely knotted the handles of the garbage bag. He lifted it gently out of the bin, its weight meaningless in his well-muscled arms, and headed for the back door, stopping only to hook one finger into the mouth of a milk-bottle, rinsed and ready for recycling.

"Oh baby," she moaned rapturously, "I love how you know exactly what I want you to do without me even having to ask!"

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Third

Previous Chapters:
Chapter the First
Chapter the Second
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*Thud... thud...thud*

The walls of Candysoda Castle trembled, and Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper sloshed around in Princess Soda's crystal goblet.

"Strewth! What in Blog's name?!" muttered the Princess. She went to the balcony to see if she could find out what was causing the earthquakes, but the view from her second floor window was filled by two denim-clad knees.

"Scope!" she exclaimed. "Of course... only a giant could make that sort of a racket! G'day mate!"

"Princess Soda, how are you?!" Scope bent down to speak with the Princess face-to face. "I have some news... I am in love! Would you like to meet Cora?"

"Scope! That is tremendous! Of course I must meet her!" squealed Princess Soda, looking around curiously, for surely she wouldn't have missed a giantess, even with Scope blocking the view.

Scope brought his hand round from behind his back and opened it. There, in his palm, stood a tiny, flame-haired pixie (even shorter than Princess Soda, who was rather on the small side), and she was beaming from ear to ear.

"Hello, so happy to meet you!" giggled the pixie, and her enthusiasm was so infectious that the Princess could not help but return her smile.

Cora told Princess Soda the story of how she and Scope had met, with much nudging and winking. Scope chimed in with some unsettling talk about their love having been approved by a deity's robotic messenger, but Princess Soda let it pass.

She was puzzled by one thing, however.

"You two are just adorable! But Scope's so tall, and you're... I mean, how do you... You know what, never mind." said the Princess hastily. "I'm just so happy for the two of you!"

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Enjoy, lovebirds!

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Second

Previous Chapters:
Chapter The First

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Princess Soda was walking through the Candysoda town square when she saw, coming towards her, a statuesque raven-haired beauty dressed from head to toe in tartan.

"Holla!" she called out delightedly. "What news, Lady Anna?"

"Holla yersel'!" Lady Anna Russell of Glesga smiled down at the diminutive princess. "Blessings of the great Chuck D be upon you! Have you heard about our - hold on a minute."

Lady Anna was a dear, friendly person and a talented poet, but she had an odd personality quirk; a deep, abiding hatred of dwarves, one of whom she had just spotted walking down the street. Her elegant face took on a stormy, enraged expression, and as the dwarf approached them, she sent him flying with a mighty kick.

"Take that, ye wee bastard!" she shouted. "Awa' an' bile yer heid!"

"Now then lassie, as I was saying..." she turned back to Princess Soda, beaming genially. "Have you heard about our friend Lord Londonstreet?"

Lord Londonstreet was a foreign lord with impeccable speech and manners. Princess Soda was very fond of reading his proclamations (especially those concerning the food rituals of his people) but they had been few and far between lately.

"No, please tell me, Lady Anna! What has happened?"

"He - Oh look, there he is! He can tell you himself!"

A fine gentleman wearing a top hat and a monocle approached them.

"Lord Londonstreet, do tell me what has happened to you!" pleaded Princess Soda.

"Your Highness, I've been cursed! Jolly inconvenient, what? An evil wizard has put the Curse of Arr Ess Eye on me. Can't write my bloody proclamations, dash it all! Still, mustn't grumble..."

"Oh no! Londonstreet, I shall ask all my wizards and good witches to look into this matter. A cure must be found!"

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I hope it gets better soon, Mr. Londonstreet.

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the First

All right people, you've been wondering what the super special secret reward was and here it is. The two bloggers who won the most recent Mad Blogs have won the honor of being the first characters to be featured in my new series, The Blogisferia Chronicles. I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't, you can suck it, because I really enjoy writing it!

Here is the first chapter - it's a little long but it requires some set-up; I don't anticipate future chapters being quite this long!!!


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Once upon a time, there was a fairy princess named Soda, who lived in the magical land of Blogisferia.

Princess Soda ruled over Candysoda, a small kingdom within Blogisferia. It was a delightful place with cobbled streets and a fountain in the town square that bubbled all day long with every flavor of soda (or soft drink) you could wish for.

The people of Blogisferia liked nothing more than to share their innermost thoughts, feelings, likes, dislikes, and the minutiae of their daily lives with each other (and anyone else who happened to be within listening distance). They were also addicted to entering competitions and winning awards, which they displayed prominently around their dwellings.

Princess Soda was no exception, often inviting people from all over Blogisferia to visit her and devising competitions to entertain them all.

*********************

One day, Princess Soda was walking in the woods just outside Candysoda Castle when she came upon a knight sitting on a rock. He was rubbing dirt into his suit of armor and banging it with rocks.

"Sir Words... words... words...? It is you!" cried the Princess. "Whatever are you doing?!"

"Everyone thinks being a knight is so glamorous." grumbled the knight. "It's not. It's all interminable round-table meetings and lots of boring hard work. But my damn armor never gets a scratch on it. It comes out looking as shiny as the day I bought it, and that just doesn't help my case."

"Well, never mind about that, Words. What I want to know is, why in Blog's name did you get your horse in such a horrible color?" asked the Princess, to whom such matters were of vital importance.

"Sivvick is a great steed!" said Sir Words defensively. "He runs beautifully, and is very reliable."

Princess Soda regarded the mustard-colored horse dubiously.
"Still, are you sure you wouldn't like me to enchant him into a lovely rose pink, or a mint-green perhaps?"

Sir Words was saved from having to reply by a rustling of nearby branches.

There in the clearing they saw a Gnu. It was gently biting a small cube of rainbow colored jelly and giggling to itself.

"Hello Gnu," said the Princess, "what is your name?"

The Gnu spoke:
"i'm biting on the dessert
i'm a gnu with no name
it feels good to get out of the rain
... was i talking in verse again? sorry about that, mate!"

"'Mate?' Oh snap!" cried the Princess delightedly. "You're from Straya? I grew up in Straya!"

"that's ace! here, have a lamington." replied the Gnu.

"Ta very much." Princess Soda accepted the small cake graciously.

As she took it from the Gnu's hoof, an amazing transformation began to occur, and soon, standing in front of them, right where the Gnu had been, was a beautiful fairy with rainbow-colored hair.

"it's me, amplified!" cried the fairy happily.


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