Wuh!! Weeee!!
We, using the conclusion that others will read this, are at the end of my magnum opus of bloggy goodness. Part three of my Hundred Days of Things I Love. Yes!! Hallelujah!! Let Oregon rise again!
I’m not in the American South, so to say Let the South Rise Again would just be puzzling and not geographically correct. Not to mention, that battle cry is, um, a hearkening back to the Civil War and assigned to the side that LOST. So.
I had a good week last week. Three nice things happened! A possible go ahead on two of my short plays being included in a Hungarian universities anthology collection– in Hungarian, of course. A friend from undergrad days contacting me about sending her material for a reading series at the theatre she works/volunteers at. And…a short play of mine possibly being directed by a famous person and shopped around to film festivals. Now, I already have several little films out there based on my work…yeah. I do. Here’s one:
The above is based on my play, Traces of Memory.
http://www.10-minute-plays.com/dramas/traces_of_memory.html
So!! Mama had a good week!
That’s a shout out to the odd way I chose to label myself when I blabbered on about romance novel stuff and popular literature. Which is oddly Southern…and parts of my family do come from the southern regions of the US. Well, after they migrated from Europe, that is. And then settled in…yeah. Anyway!!
Here’s the tail end of my Hundred.
As always, I edited them for too personal content, took out names and generally sanitized them for public consumption. I plucked the hairs from its chin, in other words…
62. Breaking Bad is good, but it is pretty racist. Kermit the Frog! A giant bathtub with lots of bubble bath and candles. The smell of banana bread or pumpkin bread or any of those breads cooking on a cold snowy day. M. coming to see my Mermaids play. {I had a one night only staged reading of my full length in Los Angeles. Go me!}
63. Looking through old pictures. The mindless comfort of knitting, row after row. Can’t think of much– still giant problems in Ferguson, MO. The dead boy, Mike Brown, has been smeared to hell and back to make his execution seem justified. Like they did with Trayvon Martin and rape victims who come forward and…fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate America right now, I hate her racist rotten grungy slimy heart showing like this to all the world. But maybe we need this to really address our problems…maybe this time it will be different. Except…no, it won’t be. There’ll be another shooting, another killing, another murder covered up as justified because he/she was a ‘thug ‘, a gangbanger, a…whatever those trying to cover up what they did can think of. And the public spoons it up gratefully because it’s the expected narrative. It’s what supposed to happen– the bad guy gets gunned down by the good guys, justice, justice, justice. Except. It ain’t even close to the truth and…fuck…fuck…[Chills right now reading this.]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shooting_of_Michael_Brown
64. Big violent storms moving through, the air cool and crisp and clean again. A reporter beheaded by the ISIS, James Foley. Wanting to write again. Throwing the ball for Trouble. My cuke plants growing away [cuke–cucumber]
65. Skipped. Went out side by siding.
66. Being out in Eastern Oregon wilderness areas. Saw a bazillion deer yesterday by the Little Malheur river. A cloudy, windy day. Manta rays of all sizes. The tadpoles are all getting large and sassy, with their legs well developed now. Pork rinds.
67. Being by myself.
68. I released the tadpoles into the settling ponds. I spilled them all over the front seat, however. Ugh. Covered with bug bites, goddamn it!! Problems with a friend, ugh. Got the flier for Beatrice [a play of mine] today. [[That would be Beatrice and the Puppies, by the Overtime Theatre in Austin, Texas.]
69. And now [friend] is mad. [I took this part out. I’m older and kinder now.] Trouble beat to hell! Did he fall out of pickup? Breaking Bad swept at Emmy’s. Can’t think of anything new I love. Music– Beth Hart. Love her smoky raspy voice. Pretty girly things, like mini tea sets, makeup, pretty clothes, fabulous footwear.
70. Nothing from [friend] Her dad gave us cukes and tomatoes today. I love cukes!!!!
71. Nothing from [friend] I feel very weighted down by this friendship and guilty I feel so. The guys left while I went to library, fine. Can’t think of anything to love today. It’s hot again.
72. Okay, word from friend. [ edited!!] Stormy day maybe, clouds showing on little internet weather thingie. My mother playing cards, how she loved games. My mother playing Heroes, a computer game. Had weird dreams last night, something about bulls, there’s a bull, we have to get back in the truck.
73. Watched Hobbit before bed– desolation of Smaug. And dreamed about Darth Vader and fighting for territory- H. V. was in the dream. She looked very different with a pig-like nose, very skeletal face, and burgundy paint smeared on her face. But I was successfully defending my turf against all comers until this tall guy had my sword put into a vault-like box only Darth could access. I was supposed to fight him but couldn’t find my sword. So I told him to hold on, he was very rude and yet oddly flirty/creepy. So finally figured out where my sword was, Darth Vader had it. Darth only wore his helmet, otherwise he had on normal clothes, a red shirt and jeans. The creepy/flirty guy got upset, he’d been following me around and taunting me. I fired back at one point, I’m a girl who’s held off all comers. It was cold, I had socks on but no shoes. My area was piled high, like a kid’s fort. I was at college or a boarding school. My sword was in a long black box that Darth Vader had to thrust his gloved hand into to open. Lovely windy cool night. Being alone all day.
74. I dreamed I became an OBGYN to pay off my student loans. Yeah. Wandering along the beach picking up shells. Gabriel Iglesias, for making me laugh, for his Aloha special and the story of him and his stepson fighting over deodorant. [I still love this bit. Still.]
75. That fall weather creeping in so gradually. Pumpkins ripening in a field. A good book on a long drive.
76. Did two submissions
77. Found three movies at thrift shop for ninety cents. VHS. Ah, technology. Sorting through clothes and belongings and finding stuff I’d hid away.
78. Finding Nemo opening– sigh, so good and so sad. My play open tomorrow in Texas. Still no word on ESL job, will apply again.
79. Molly’s faces, her scrunched up don’t wanna little face, so darling. A perfect leaf in its fall coat.
80. Watching the Beijing opera with C. Ponds full of koi, their flashing sides, the secret watery world they live in. How funny people are at times, how funny. Cambodia?
81. Cambodia? When the Breaking Bad marathon starts on Sundays. Earrings on sale. A storm, any storm, any storm will do.
82. I think it’s a no on Cambodia because life is all about the money, right? I can’t think of anything. A big giant moon last night. Heard an owl or some nightbird. Can feel the rot setting in. Nothing about play or…fuck.
83. Went riding yesterday. Lovely cool day.
84. Being happy for others when something good happens in their lives.
85. The most beautiful pumpkin of a moon last night. And wind, a windy night, just perfect for odd dreams. I was a witch guarding a castle against all comers, guarding it until someone else came back for it. M. in dream at the end of it– he was buying guns with another guy to come after me, we, my helpers, were pleading our case to leave us alone, it wasn’t our castle, just leave us alone.
86. Did I forget a day?
87. Songs that I love. Back in Black, Hell’s Bells, Highway to Hell, You Shook Me All Night Long– AC/DC. Hearts in Armor, On a Bus to St. Cloud, Georgia Rain, Trisha Yearwood. On My Own, Les Mis. Somebody Else’s Story, Chess. I’m Moving On, Rascall Flatts. If He Tried, Lorri McKenna. Runaway Train, R. Cash. Strawberry Wine, Deanna Carter. How Far, Whatever You Say, This One’s For the Girls, Martina McBride. A Thousand Miles from Nowhere, D. Yoakum. Anymore, Travis Tritt. Born to Run, Darkness on the Edge of Town, Tougher than the Rest, The River, Born in the USA, Jungeland, Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen. Sinner’s Prayer, Beth Hart. Shadows on the Night, P. Benatar. A Long December, Counting Crows. Sweet Emotion, Walk This Way, Aerosmith.
88. Skipped?
89. Skipped?
90. big beautiful thunderstorm. Dogs shaking.
91. My big pimple thing squirted lots of blood and pus today, oddly satisfying. [Yuck!!]
92. I have no idea.
93, Skipped.
94. Saw snake, so cute, so tiny and scared, out by barn.
95. ?
96. Coffee sometimes seems to the only good thing left in the world.
97. Breaking Bad
98. Have no idea. I have no love in me. Loved the Roosevelt’s on PBS. I was actually weepy at times. Ford factories could put together a bomber in 63 minutes at one point. A million parts or more to each plane. Put together in an hour.
99. I’ve skipped.
100. Had a dream last night, Oct 1. Did a play of mine in Missouri, crazy high sets, at a college somewhere. And then did a reading of a musical I was working on, with people singing the parts. Weird hazy yellowish light.
And there ya go, gentle readers!! Some laughter, some tears, some truly head-scratching puzzlers in there…Did I not deliver on my promises? Whatever they were? Okay then.
ANN WUEHLER 