if you really want to write the great american poem, you have to realize that Redbox killed Blockbuster, not Netflix

Thursday 30 June 2011

Just a quickie to say thanks for some new LLF reviews: In the Emprise Review, Nathan Huffstutter has an insightful, evenhanded, and well-written look at the book. He also seems fairly familiar with the territory of the stories, as he says of I-5: "In this corridor, Red Bluff to Yreka to Talent, the weeds and speed give way to off-ramp drags of greasy spoons and grizzled beards, canned greens and un-ironic curios, potholes and slush." I can't even feel annoyed at his criticism of a few stories because he understands them so well and so eloquently. Kudos, Huffstutter! Which I've italicized because it sounds the title of a TV pilot Saul Bellow might've written in the bathtub during a fever, but here is Nathan Huffstutter saying eloquent things:

Make no mistake, this isn’t participation-ribbon or up-by-your-bootstraps trying; in these dozen stories, Young exposes character after character who are trying to trust. Trusting themselves, trusting adulthood, trusting the internet, trusting the people they just might love, all while suspecting the very suckiest, that with both sides predisposed to fuck things up, maybe the best they can do is try. These are the same twitching, fragile moments Jim Shepard engulfs in avalanche and flood and Young dares them au natural, in high school gyms and tribal casinos and Pollard Flats. And if you’ve never stopped for the restroom in Pollard Flats, let me be the first to tell you, that mannequin in the tub will haunt you way longer than any old rockslide.

Also in the eloquence department, Kimberly Ann Southwick has a review of LLF in the new Gigantic Sequins, wherein she says "Young's characters are hunter-gatherers of the fiction world, trading any normal identification of themselves or their possessions for something both more interesting to us and more useful to them." Sweet. Also she says some of the people in the book have green hearts, which is a smart thing to say. The whole issue of GS is full of poems, stories, and illustrations of naked ladies with dinosaur heads. Some of my favorite lines from the issue include Leigh Phillips's "You stole my song / by dying into it," James Caroline's "We were 14 when I tried to give him my winter coat," Adam Atkinson's "Months pass. Mongolians pass," and Michelle Cheever's "We ate our pancakes on opposite sides of the room."

In tennis news, Tsonga the butterfly defeated Federer the napper. A major upset in this riding lawnmower of a summer.

comments | | Read More...

Special Exposure Wednesday

Wednesday 29 June 2011

Earlier this month Kayla was a flower girl in my sister's wedding.

Snapped this picture with my cell phone shortly after Ms Amy finished with Kayla's hair.

comments | | Read More...

"From New Orleans, With Love"

Tuesday 28 June 2011

"From New Orleans, With Love"


I am part of the high rise.


Those moist eyes
that walked across the bridge
just to excape water.
In search of food and water
sitting atop the shoulders of my father.
Brother consoles my mother.
Eyes close like shutters
whilst I wipe the debris stains.
My eyelids part to see them shudder
at the sight of a gun barrel.
We complain.
We shout and vent our pain
and still attempt to cross those plains
only to receive punctured brains.


I am a traveler from a recent past.


I'm out of resources.
I've used my very last.
I'm winded and gassed
and tired of being treated
like a nomad or outcast.
I've lost what I had;
but not my identity
so don't associate me
with your idea of iniquity.
I am not an obscenity.
You may not be kin to me;
but show me some humanity.


I am the city.


The fresh canvas painted
atop what was once tainted.
I swear that I almost fainted.
What a sight to see:
Churches with new mosaics;
shining bright lights for me.
Brick laden streets with new pavement
that countless travelers come to see.


I am still something more
although I'm not fully restored.


I am that trip to the corner store
to get a fish plate for $7.54.


I am winter nights in the CBD;
stepping out of the River Walk at 6:53.


I am a wonder in this world.
I am where you want to be.
Southern Gentlemen and Beautiful Girls
that you thought you'd never see.


I am fantastic;
such a marvelous spectacle.
I am Bayou Classic.
I am Essence Festival.


I am your favorite restaurant
with all the foods you love to eat.
I am fashion and music.
I am that rhythm in your feet.
I am a lush, rich culture.
I am that place you like to meet.
I am large floats in February
that you wave at on Poydras Street.


I'll admit that I'm not all great.
I am a record crime rate.
I am the harbor for young rebels
who are vulgar and irate;


but if you give me a chance,
I'll give you something to appreciate.
I can't cleanse the past from my hands;
but that doesn't mean I'm not great.


I am like nothing you've ever seen:
More loving than any guy or girl.
I am New Orleans:
The greatest city in the world.


From New Orleans, with love.<3
Laissez les bons temps rouler!


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

comments | | Read More...

pioneer auto body iced coffee: some thoughts on the english tennis tournament i've been watching alone in my kitchen in between jags of crying softly while staring at the garage

What? You wanted to hear about a new sea star that feeds exclusively on driftwood? Oh, okay.

Jay-Z was at Wimbledon. He sat in the corner like a vacuum you thought you'd lost.

Nadal's foot is hurting because it also makes the Nadal face, which is the face your little brother makes after he's spent months practicing his carnival horse race skeeball game on a homemade sock-based skeeball machine, and finally the carnival rolls around and he beats everyone by like ten "leagues" or whatever the fuck they measure horse races in but all he wins is a headband and a beautiful Spanish model, and as we all know beauty is fleeting and death arrives like the death of your favorite musicians after they've spent the ends of their lives putting out one embarrassing album after another.

Mardy Fish is the last American, just like John Wayne and Barack Obama and that girl who murdered her mom or daughter or stepped really hard on her inflatable pool or whatever.

If Andy Murray were a real conceptual artist like everybody keeps saying he is, he would retweet every article suggesting he shave with the hashtag #yourmomneedstoshave. Alas Andy Murray is just some guy who will lose to Nadal in the semi-finals unless he hires those dudes at Wimbeldon who stopped shooting pigeons to shoot Nadal's bum foot.

Feliciano "Delicioso" Lopez is attractive to old British ladies. Congratulations! Unfortunately, my grandmother is more into pickleball these days.

Jo-Wilfried Tsonga looks and plays like Mohammad Ali. That is, he turns into an actually butterfly and carries the ball on the back of his wings while the other player chases him around and swats at him, never catching him, before finally Tsonga the Butterfly drops the ball right on the white line, which isn't even chalk anymore, it's some kind of weird titanium spraypaint, but at least the grass is 100% rye, and what Tsonga doesn't tell anyone but you can see in his face is that butterflies don't want to do something as inconsequential as win at tennis because they'd rather be losing themselves among the trippy patterns—hedgerows, garage roofs—you don't appreciate because you're too big.

When David Foster Wallace killed himself and my mother (who hadn't previously heard of him or read anything by him) emailed me an article about David Foster Wallace's documented mental illnesses, it was Federer who I found sleeping on my couch. And I don't even have a couch! When I walked through the door, I saw Fed's dozy Swiss I-used-to-be-a-fat-kid face and I followed his footprints (which were tiny cities of tinier bluebirds) back to the window he'd flown in through. Then Fed woke up and took me into his arms and bought me a custom-tailored white blazer and assured me that, when you get down to it, 1) nothing in life is documentable, 2) there are still whole tribes of uncontacted people living in dense jungles, no matter how many times helicopters take photos of them and some of them look exactly like people you went to high school with, and 3) there is in life, finally, only the way we avoid or don't avoid the smoke produced by inexhaustible contests of human desire, which is of course a conceptual smoke, which is a concept he demonstrated with his wrists.

Bernard Tomic is an eighteen year old Australian in the quarterfinals. He doesn't so much play tennis as do your dishes without telling you. He doesn't so much play tennis as replace your doors with automatic, Star Trek style sliding doors.

Djokovic plays tennis like someone who discovered that when he bought a can of Pringles it was only 3/4 as full as it should be; so he goes back to the store and tries to get his money back; but they tell him to talk to the company; but the company has a robo-operator no matter how many times he punches 0; so finally he rents an SUV with tinted windows and drives to the Pringles factory in the middle of "Nebraska" or whatever and crashes his SUV into the SUV parked in the spot reserved for the owner of Pringles; then he walks inside and steals Pringles from all the assembly lines; even after the alarms are going off and the lines have stopped moving; he even steals the half-done Pringles; the unsalted Pringles; the Pringles that don't hold their shape; the rejected Pringles; the raw potato and oil mash that is begging and pleading for its life (I'm not even a Pringles yet!) as Djokovic stuffs it in his cheeks like chewing tobacco; until finally Djokovic has eaten all the Pringles in the factory and set Pringles back an entire day in Pringles supply; and as the police are arresting him and his stomach is bleeding and his face is shining from all the oil, he turns to the security camera and makes that self-satisfied fuck you, world, ha ha, up yours face that I actually like and appreciate and respect a lot despite conclusions you might be reaching from estimating the tone of this analogy because tones are fleeting and tomorrow Pringles will be back on track and we are but measly sacks of willpower set against everlasting tides of progress and comfort equipment and dizzying economic inequality and faraway stars exploding in tremors of terrifyingly un-self-aware star gas.

comments | | Read More...

"Deviant Decadence"

Monday 27 June 2011

‎"Deviant Decadence"


I've asked myself a thousand times:
"Do I really want to do this?"
I have the script. I've studied the lines;
But I act as if I never knew this.
Those are familiar lips.
They will offer no new kiss
And I recognize those hips.
Leftover lust. Not a new dish.
I'm still unsure if I should do this:
Search old seas for new fish,
Act like throwback is new bliss
As if she holds my true wish.
I won't lie.
Some things I do miss;
She was my tomb.
I was Anubis.
I was locked within her womb.
She held me deep inside.
She knows I'd never leave soon.
I just take root and confide.
Time was never really an issue.
We always found a way to bide
As we conjoined flesh and tissue
As if to strap up for a ride.


I sit back and reminisce,
Relax, wax and repeat
And have yet to notice
That I'm in her passenger seat.
I turn to look at her;
But she is focused on the highway.
She tells me that it's my choice.
We can do everything my way.
What more could I say?
I can't believe I just said that.
I've clearly lost my way.
I don't know where my head's at.
I guess it's time to knuckle up.
I just buckle up and fall back.
My girl just hit me up.
It goes to voice mail. I'll call back.
Not right now, though.
Hell, she might be asleep later.
My conscience tells me not to go;
But I can't seem to play evader.
She winks at me. I blink back.
This makes no sense! I used to hate her!
My girl is what she severely lacks;
So why should I accommodate her?
Why was it so easy to bait her?
Why couldn't I just dismiss
Someone who always was the fader;
Stealing sunlight & keeping me pissed?


I've no clue of what to think next.
I didn't plan any of this.
That's when my girl sent me a text:
A smiley face, a heart and a kiss;
But before I could reply,
Overhead lights blinded my eyes.
My phone dropped; and to my surprise,
I felt her hands on my thighs.
Before any words were said,
She turned the key. Lights were dead.
Gathered knees. Lowered head.
By 1:43, she was full and fed.
What's wrong with me?
That's what I should've said.
I should have stopped; but instead,
Here I am at the foot of her bed.


The doors are locked.
The entire house is sealed off.
I'm erect. Solid as a rock.
She asks me to help her peel off.
Clothes cascade to the floor;
Revealing dark chocolate skin.
Perspiration seeps through my pores
And the air is getting thin.
She gyrates a little more
As she invites me to dig in.
I hesitate; but I don't negate.
Her leg is up; so I give in.
At first, I feel a little nauseous.
Don't get me wrong. She's worth a savor.
I'm just apprehensive and cautious
As if I'm doing intensive labor;
But as time gets more extensive,
There is an influx in behavior.
Another lick, a few more sucks
And I willingly grant her favor.


Yeah I know. I'm in some muck.
I chose to wade deep in the mire.
This will surely deplete my luck;
But I just can't fight desire.
It's obvious that I know better;
But I let her catch my ire.
I did my part to make her wetter.
Now I can't put out her fire.


She climbs on top of me,
Makes me her property
And I give her the business.
She wants it all. She's my monopoly.
Deep down, it truly bothers me.
I should've initially turned back;
But she's laying on her back.
I should resist; but I attack.
She says I'm what she missed;
Says I'm what the others lacked.
She leans in for a deep kiss;
But still won't cut me any slack.
She becomes vulgar and blunt;
Wants to see what I've got packed,
Bends over and faces the front
And gently arches her back.


Why am I still here?
Was it not crystal clear
That I am simply destroying
A true love that I hold dear?
She's calling for me:
"You're not done. Come here."
It shakes and bounces enticingly;
So I relinquish those fears.
I mount her and she takes me in.
She looks back with an evil grin
As if to signify her win
By helping me take part in this sin.
I look back at her
And my stomach is in lumps;
But I disregard and violently pump
Until knees buckle and I dump.


The air gets colder.
She's knocked out; still slumped over.
I feel drunk although I'm sober.
I guess this means I'm sleeping over.
I throw my shirt over my shoulders.
When she awakes, I'm going home.
She turns sideways and moves over.
I start searching for my phone.
I know it can't be far.
Damn! I left it in the car!
The battery is dead;
So I look for it under the stars.


I still haven't found it yet.
That's when it flashes my missed texts:
"Baby? Are you home yet?"
"Did you forget?"
"Still bringing me to work?"
"Is your alarm set?"
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?"
"Please call back. I'm trying not to fret."


I sit there with my head down.
I look at her photo and start to frown.
I was dumb enough to let one night
Tear everything that we built down.
I turned away from the better me
And sought refuge from the light
So I could delight in deviant decadence:
A cold dish of infidelity and plight. 


So much for a good night...


Written by: Devin Joseph Metz

comments | | Read More...

Random Acts of Kindness

This past Saturday was Special Olympic Night at the Battery. The Battery is the Charleston Battery professional soccer team.

Athletes can start competing in the Special Olympics when they are 8 years old. Kayla will be 8 in a few weeks. I am very excited to get her involved!

The Night at the Battery included meeting under the covered tent area for dinner catered by Qdoba, followed the the soccer game.

We finally made it to our seats and at one point Kayla started to walk off down our row. I grabbed her arm before she could get to the steps and asked where she was going. She told me 'down there.' I told her she wasn't going anywhere by herself and she told me 'yes.' Little Miss Wants To Be So Big and Independent.

This whole time I'm still holding on to her arm as she's trying to pull away and 'escape.' I ask her why she wants to go down there, where does she think she's going by herself? Her answer, "Get ice cream!" I reiterated that she wasn't going by herself and then asked her, "How are you going to buy ice cream? Do you have any money?" "Yes!" she emphatically stated. "Where is your money? Show me." I said. She pointed to me. I told her I didn't have any money and then she pointed to Joe and said he had money.

So I let go of her arm so she could go see if Joe had any money. He pulled out his wallet to show her it was empty. Dejected she finally sat back down.

Several minutes later I took both kids to the bathroom. When we returned to our seats an older boy (I'm bad about guessing ages, maybe 13ish) approached me and said they (I was guessing he meant his parents) heard Kayla asking for ice cream earlier and they wanted to buy her and Lucas some ice cream. I told him that was very nice, but they didn't have to do that. He said it was ok, they just really wanted to do this for them.

I don't know if they felt bad for the kids when we showed Kayla we didn't have any money or what, but we could have very well afforded to buy them ice cream (with the credit card, we don't carry cash very often). It wasn't a matter of the money though - we just weren't planning on buying them any because they had cookies/brownies after dinner.

But looking in this boy's face and seeing the kindness there, this was just some genuine good deed that he wanted to do ... well I couldn't turn him down. I couldn't send him back to his seat by saying no. So I told him ok and said that was really nice of them. When we turned back to also thank the parents his mom said, "It was all his idea." What a sweet boy.

I still felt a little uncomfortable allowing strangers to buy my kids ice cream, because as their parents that something we can do for them, and we can afford it. I didn't want to feel like we were taking a handout.

It was nice being the recipient of someone doing a nice thing just because they wanted to. And my kids enjoyed their 'extra' dessert!

Santa was spotted at the game - there was a Toys for Tots collection going on that night.

Waiting for Qdobo to finish setting up for dinner.

comments | | Read More...

WideAwake.Org

Saturday 25 June 2011

WideAwake is a Dallas-based non-profit created with the vision of providing funds to small grassroots organizations around the world with demonstrated passion toward the poor and a high sense of stewardship. 100% of gifts donated are used to fund the project. Volunteers and private donors give of their time and money to allow for each donation to go directly to the project in need.


All of their Affiliates undergo an application and vetting process to ensure that they are ethically run and efficiently operated.

An example of one of the projects is the Yamini Foundation. This foundation seeks funding to provide a healthy meal a day to students who are in a school for the mentally handicapped. The lunch they receive at school is the only sustenance that many receive each day.


Baby Sign Language - a free community for sign language education - is having a giveaway to bring awareness to WideAwake. Through Jun 29th they will feature goodies from around the world as daily giveaways. If WideAwake reaches 1,100 Facebook likes there will be a grand prize giveaway valued at $600.

comments | | Read More...

My Fellow American

Having a daughter with Down syndrome and being part of the 'special needs' community of 'life' has made me more aware of not only misinformation surrounding her diagnosis, but also of discrimination against those with disabilities. Which of course I will bring awareness and fight against and stand up for my daughter.

Discrimination has always made me uncomfortable whether it be against religion, race, sexual orientation, gender, or nationality. I don't think it's fair, or right, to discrimination a whole section of the population because someone who did something happens to be fill-in-the-blank. I had those same beliefs after 9-11 when there was a lot of Muslim backlash in America. All people who follow one religion in particular should not be discriminated against because of what terrorists did.

My Fellow American is a social media project asking people to pledge and spread the message that Muslims are also 'our fellow Americans.' It "seeks to change the narrative - from Muslims as the other, to Muslims as our fellow Americans.

Here is the trailer for the movie My Fellow American:


The voices heard in the film are actual excerpts found on youtube, and were a small sample of such comments from various public figures, including law makers, radio and television personalities, and leading religious leaders.

comments | | Read More...

The Pout

Thursday 23 June 2011

Here is the picture I mentioned in the wedding post. After Timmy took the garter off Kelly's leg Kayla jumped up in the chair and wanted to participate in those festivities as well. I don't know what Timmy said to Kayla, but she was obviously upset that he wasn't removing any garter from her leg.

Kayla danced pretty much every song ... and she preferred to dance alone. Poor Lucas tried to take her hands and dance with her, but she was having none of that! And then Lucas showing some of his 'break dancing' moves (I have no idea where he got that from).

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

comments | | Read More...

Ebeanstalk Toys

Wednesday 22 June 2011

Toy shopping can be overwhelming ... especially when you're looking online. There are thousands of online stores that sell toys; where do you start looking?!

One of the websites that helps take some of the guessing out of it for you is Ebeanstalk with their selection of 'expert-selected children's toys matched to a child's development.' The experts of child specialists include a clinical psychologist, speech-language pathologist, pediatric occupational and physical therapists, and a special educator.

The products are easily navigated by age, such as Toys For A One Year Old. I like that within each age category you can also search sub categories like Birthday Gifts for 1 year olds, stacking toys, and Made in the USA, just to name a few. It also helps that you can narrow your choices down even more by searching for a skill level such as emotional, dexterity, locomotion, education, language etc.

Ebeanstalk also offers a satisfaction guarantee policy - if you're not satisfied you can return any product within 30 days for a refund of its purchase price.

Since I've got a soon-to-be 8 year old I'll be checking out their top selling toys for 8 year olds.

This is a review post for Ebeanstalk. Content/opinion is my own; I received a gift card to thank me for my review. 

comments | | Read More...

Down Art Book and the Be Yourself Fashion Show Auditions

Tuesday 21 June 2011

The John Langdon Down Foundation's book Mexican School of Down Art is now available for purchase in the U.S.

This book showcases the "talent, effort and artistic endeavors of 29 acclaimed artists" who have Down syndrome and studied art at the Foundation's workshop. It features paintings, engravings, and lithographs. Works produced by the school's artists have been exhibited across Europe, Asia, and North America.

Sounds like it is a book full of beautiful work!
~~~

The Global Down Syndrome Foundation is having auditions for the upcoming Be Beautiful Be Yourself Jet Set Fashion Show. DeOndra Dixon, Jamie Foxx's sister, is this year's ambassador.

Children with Down syndrome, age 7 and up, are invited to come to Denver for auditions on July 29th with the Fashion Show taking place on Oct 15. Links to the audition forms can be found here.

Oh how I wish we were still living in NM so I could take Kayla to this event!

comments | | Read More...

lover's just another word for cough syrup in the snow

The spontaneous and endearing Mark C of Big Lucks is staying with me this week for the Juniper Summer Writing Institute, so we are doing things like eating pineapple salsa and buying bike pumps. Today I'm going to get my tennis racquet restrung at the sports store that's so right next to the liquor store that people often get the two confused.

I asked Twitter if there's an emoticon for "that thing where you're writing a book about the internet but it turns into a book about trains?" Two suggestions, which I dutifully retweeted: ಠ_ಠ & :000000000000. It's the first day of summer and I can hear things so well I don't know how far away they are.

Some exciting things that happened in my hometown recently are 1) someone stole a tractor from a high school, but no one knows what they looked like 2) someone stole a wedding dress and a trailer, but they looked like Colonel Sanders.

People have been saying kind things about Look! Look! Feathers of late. Diana Rickard had a nice write-up on her blog where she said: "There is a strong sense of community within these small towns and cliques, a sense of belonging even while there is simultaneously a strong undercurrent of alienation, isolation, and twenty-first century futility." Thanks, Diana! Postitbreakup, whose name I've seen in comment sections a lot but I just now figured out (Post-It Breakup) posted his review of the first two stories, wherein he talks about violence and endings. Thank you! Also he posted a video of Bo Burnham doing a cool piano song about self-loathing and art. Bo Burnham looks like a dentist's son I once knew. The dentist had an office caddy corner from a tackle shop.

Finally, Michael Goroff reviewed LLF for the Barn Owl Review, and it's a very enthusiastic and articulate review. He says the voice behind the stories "is like the debasingly articulate Jiminy Cricket I seem to hear whispering at me on my shoulder every time I open Firefox or pull up to a Taco Bell drive-thru window or simply walk around in the haze of a world that’s mine but that I don’t understand—an ontological cocktail that’s one part disembodied techno-juice, one part actual, physical, real, beautiful, natural living." Gracias, Michael! He also compared the book to E.M. Forster's 1904 Matrix-y sci-fi story "Machine Stops," which anticipates online culture in an amazingly prescient way. "There were of course the buttons by which she communicated with her friends," Forster says. Probably a lot of people—especially hardcore sci-fi fans—already know about this story, but I didn't because I have been too busy changing my Google background to a picture of a breakfast sandwich.

comments | | Read More...

So I Don't Forget, Part III

Monday 20 June 2011

Kayla was in a mood and didn't want to be bothered, but Lucas was trying to talk to her about if the moon was hiding. Kayla said, "I not talking to you." Lucas said, "No, "I'm" talking to YOU." and proceeded to ask her again if she thought the moon was hiding. I wish I could have recorded the tone of his voice. He didn't have an attitude, or was mean, or rude or anything. He was very literal about it. She might not be talking to him, but he let her know that was fine because he was talking to her. 

Lucas likes to say "sarcophagus" and "esophagus" but when I ask him if he can say "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" he says, "No, that's too many letters; I need you to help me."

We did this while my dad was here and he (my dad) said, "I can say 'it'" and Lucas said, "Try." So my dad says, "it" and Lucas looks at him and then says, "no it's a long word."  

The way Lucas pronounces "tomorrow" as "tomahyoh"and "asparagus" as "basparagus."

Every day when Kayla gets home from school she asks, "Where we going?" I usually say "no where." One day she kept asking and Lucas said, "No where!" Kayla responded, "YES where!"

The pool was closing and we were the last ones to get out of the pool. I told Kayla it was time to get out and she told me 'no.' I said, "Kayla it's time to get out. They are closing and no one else is here." She responded, "I here."

Lucas, about 15x to my aunt and uncle during the wedding reception, "Where's the crash/cwash?" They kept telling him they couldn't understand what he was asking. Finally he said, "It's like a garbage can!"

Looking over the menu at Bob Evan's Lucas points to his choice of dessert. I said, "I don't think we're getting ice cream this time." Very matter-of-factly, without missing a beat, he replied, "I think so."

We went out to eat for lunch and Lucas noticed a guy by himself. In a sad voice he said, "Aww that guy is all alone. He doesn't have any friends to meet him there." I was surprised at his empathy and hope he always has this caring heart!

Kayla and I came home from grocery shopping to find Lucas eating crackers. He was actually going to share some with Kayla, but before doing so he said, "Daddy, do these have wheat?" So sweet that he was thoughtful enough to ask that before giving any to Kayla. And yes, unfortunately they did.

Told Lucas not to put anything in his ear, that nothing goes in his ear when he said, "No, what's that letter thing?" That 'letter' thing ...haha! A Q-tip!

There are twin girls in Lucas's preschool class who love to chase him all around. Instead of referring to them as 'my two friends' he refers to them as 'my two girls.' As in, "I want to see my two girls today. I want to show my two girls this."

I tried on my bridesmaid dress and Kayla exclaimed, "Wow Mommy! You a princess! Stay there, I be right back, I get your crown and shoes!" She came back downstairs with her dress up crown, shoes, wand, and jewelery.

Lucas said he had a magazine and I told him that was actually a handbook. So he held it out to me and asked, "To hand to somebody?"

After Kayla ate quite a bit for dinner Joe asked her, "Geesh Kayla, didn't mommy feed you today?" Kayla said, "No." Joe, "No?" Kayla, "No, I feed myself." Well she is right about that, she does feed herself!

Lucas, looking at a baby pic of Kayla, "Who's that?" Me, "It's Kayla." Lucas, "Kayla was a boy?" Me, "No she was a girl." Lucas, staring at the pic, "But her hair was not long." No, she didn't have long hair at 4 months!

"Oh Lucas why are you coughing so much?" His response, in a sad, pitiful voice, "Cause I need (I was expecting to hear medicine!) candy. Chocolate muffin candy." (That would be mini Reece's PB Cups!)

"Kayla don't talk with food in your mouth." Kayla, "I singing!"
"Kayla, your fingers ..." (she was biting on a nail) Kayla, "It's not finger, that's a thumb!"
"Kayla go see mommy for some lotion." Kayla, "Not lotion, that's sunblock!"
When did she get so technical about everything?!

The day Kayla lost her 5th tooth I told her it was time to go upstairs and put pjs on she said, "Where's my dollar?" Me, "What dollar?" Kayla, "For my pillow." Guess she didn't want to wait for the tooth fairy!

Me, to the kids: "Guys, tomorrow we're going to see Cirque du Soleil!" Kayla, excited: "Chick Fil A!"

Lucas, "Now you jump over the rope!" Me, "and then you jump backwards over it?" Lucas, "Nooo! People can't jump backwards!" said as if I suggested some outrageous concept.

Half-way through eating his chocolate birthday pancake at IHOP, Lucas said, "This is making me tired. I want to save it to a box." Can't say I blame him; the pancake was as big as his plate.

comments | | Read More...

Go Fly A Kite

Friday 17 June 2011

comments | | Read More...

"The Pursuit (The Perfect Fruit)"

Thursday 16 June 2011

"The Pursuit (The Perfect Fruit)"


Most of the girls that approach me
I barely know from Adam 
And I've the kind of expectations
That I'm afraid they can't fathom.
They say that they're unique;
Favoring a beauty greater than Eve;
But the fruit that their tree bares
Leaves little reason to believe.


I remember this watermelon.
Told me she tasted like heaven;
But she was nothing like manna.
She was barely even bread unleavened.
Initial sweetness hid bitter kisses.
She swore that she was seedless;
But after years of spitting,
I decided I didn't need this.


I thought love was out of reach.
That's when I met this southern peach.
She had a soft exterior
And a sticky sweet tone in her speech.
She was sure that she made it
Because peaches are my favorite.
She could've kept my mind close;
But her ambition was to enslave it.
Her ego bruises easy;
So I just ate around the pit
Until she tried to make me queasy.
That's when the gorging had to quit.


That experience took it's toll;
But I finally broke those shackles.
Then one day; during a stroll,
I ran into this pineapple.
She wore her mask well.
Always had so much to tell.
She tried her best to hide
That she was just a hard shell.
Her stories were frequent. 
Dare I say chronic.
She lied so much that she believed it;
But I knew she was far from exotic.
She didn't offer much substance.
Her deeper innards were almost bare.
It was hell peeling that outer shell
Only to find little fruit there.
She assumed that I was vain.
She was sure I was unaware
that what clings to her veins
Was more than she could share.


Maybe this just wasn't my lane.
The weight of love was far too heavy;
So I hopped on a plane
Only to converse with a cherry.
Everything seemed legit.
She might be my perfect fit.
She even disclosed the fact
That she came with a pit.
She complimented my charm.
I acknowledged her wit.
We did the kind of things
That fruit fanciers could never forget.
She said I'm her " Favorite Him."
I catered to her deviant whim.
Her moans resonated like a hymn
Every time my tongue tied her stem.
I was sure I had it made;
But the thrill was sure to fade.
She flung pits at my eyes
And her stems cut me like blades.
Then came the day her juice dripped
Only to land on another's lips.
I caught them in mid sip;
But she shrugged and continued to dip.
So relentless in her cheating.
She gave my heart a beating.
Part of me wanted to keep eating;
But I was better off just leaving.


After that, love was just too scary.
I found myself being wary
Of any and every potential mate;
No matter how much they varied.


Strawberries were so stuck up.
Blueberries always wanted pity.
Blackberries were boisterous and dominant.
Raspberries thought they ran the city.


Lemons made me pucker up.
Limes were far too sour.
Cantaloupes weren't really lively
And pomegranates want all the power.


I remember years ago
When I would hang with my crew.
They would chase the plums around;
But I liked this honeydew.
She didn't care for grape bunches.
She didn't need mass appeal.
She didn't come off like the oranges.
She wasn't that easy to peel.
She was uniformed and neat.
She was just so real;
But I was too shy to greet.
I may never know how she feels.


I guess this isn't for me.
It may be too much to grapple.
At least that's how it used to be....
..................Before I met my apple.


That's my baby.
My one true lady.
When the wiles of life encased me,
She was more than ready to save me.


So ripe.
So crisp.
Every bite felt right.
I still taste her when I lick my lips.


Other guys chase those mangoes
And pull at the papayas
But my girl is juicy enough
To handle my detailed desire.


She displays impeccable skill
When removing my banana peel.
She let's me bore through her core.
Our bond is serene and surreal.


She's delicate when warm
And so subtle when chilled.
She never causes me harm.
She always keeps my heart filled.


She's everything and more than.
She's all I would ever need.
We've recently started our garden.
She helped me sow my seeds.


She lifts our branches higher
While I firmly forge our roots.
Our children will come to admire
Our nurturing bond of love and truth.


Love has finally shown some mercy.
It was truly a worthy pursuit.
My heart no longer wanders thirsty.
I have found the perfect fruit. ♥


Written by: Devin Joseph Metz

comments | | Read More...

Snapping Buttons

Wednesday 15 June 2011

I have tried to show Kayla how to snap the buttons on her pants/shorts, to no avail. She had trouble lining the buttons up correctly so they would snap together, and if she did get that part then she wouldn't, or couldn't, use enough strength in her fingers to push them together hard enough to snap.

One day while we were on vacation this was my Facebook status: "When your 7 yo child has special needs, which means low muscle tone that makes some fine motor skills difficult, you get all excited and stuff when they can finally snap the button on their shorts without any help whatsoever. Just sayin."

Yes, there was much celebrating going on the day Kayla pulled up her shorts, lined those 2 button pieces up, and snapped them together! I wish I could have captured the look of pride and accomplishment on her face over this milestone! Every time she would snap it again she would get such a satisfied look on her face and say, "I did it!"

I guess we won't be hearing her come out of the bathroom saying, "I need help with my button please."

Now to work on that shoe-tying thing!

comments | | Read More...

the 44 books i've read so far in 2011 not counting chapbooks and anything i forgot to put on the list, i finished all of them except I AM A STRANGE LOOP, feel free to ask me about any of them or harrass me if i misspelled someone's name

1 - Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
2 - Coffee Coffee - Aram Saroyan
3 - Fancy Beasts - Alex Lemon
4 - And Then There's This - Bill Wasik
5 - April Galleons - John Ashbery
6 - Neighbors - Thomas Berger
7 - I Have Touched You - Gregory Sherl
8 - Nick Demske - Nick Demske
9 - The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas - Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis
10 - Couch - Benjamin Parzybok
11 - Plants Don't Drink Coffee - Unai Elorriaga
12 - Monster Party - Lizzy Acker
13 - The Universe in Miniature - Patrick Somerville
14 - Hush Up Stinky Poo But - Ken Sparling
15 - Cardinal Numbers - Hob Broun
16 - I Am a Strange Loop - Douglas Hofstadter
17 - I <3 Your Fate - Anthony McCann
18 - Odditorium - Hob Broun
19 - Abbot Awaits - Chris Bachelder
20 - Bobcat Country - Brandi Homan
21 - I Is To Vorticism - Ben Mirov
22 - Inner Tube - Hob Broun
23 - Selected Poems - Ted Berrigan
24 - Normally Special - xTx
25 - Campfires of the Dead - Peter Christopher
26 - Await Your Reply - Dan Chaon
27 - About a Mountain - John D'Agata
28 - jPod - Douglas Coupland
29 - There Is No Year - Blake Butler
30 - The Girl With Brown Fur - Stacey Levine
31 - Veronica - Nicholas Christopher
32 - Cowboy Maloney's Electric City - Michael Bible
33 - Us - Michael Kimball
34 - The Book of Interfering Bodies - Daniel Borzutzky
35 - The Disinformation Phase - Chris Toll
36 - Triggermoon, Triggermoon - Julia Cohen
37 - The Exile: Sex, Drugs, Libel in the New Russia - Mark Ames and Matt Taibbi
38 - Casino Moscow - Matthew Brzezinski
39 - Masters of Atlantis - Charles Portis
40 - Madame Bovary - trans. Lydia Davis
41 - Culture of One - Alicey Notley
42 - Three Letter Poems - Josh Brandon and Chelsea Martin
43 - The Financial Lives of Poets - Jess Walters
44 - They Could No Longer Contain Themselves - Elizabeth J. Colen, Mary Miller, John Jodzio, Tim Jones-Yelvington, and Sean Lovelace

comments | | Read More...