amazon_syren: (Default)
( Dec. 23rd, 2008 05:41 pm)
Ph33r my Editor Fu!


What I Thought I Wanted

I thought
I wanted
life on land

had tired of the tides and
wanted him
(his steady presence
anchored me)

But shorelines shift

What I thought was land
(A firmer place to stand
On shaking legs)

Sucked at my toes

Began to drag me



Nothing stays the same
You learn to let the current move
You, shifting with its whims

Or else you drown


La! :-D

- Amazon. :-)

Interview over.

I did not get the job.

I am not actually surprised by this.

But, hey, I'm now registered with yet another agency. So there you go.

On the plus side, I was able to articulate my dream 'job' (not, I admit, doing admin for a temp agency). It goes like this:

Three or four days a week (ideally three, but that depends on the pay-rate, among other things), I work a day-job (the kind of thing that means there *will* be food on the table and a roof overhead, even if everything else gets slow) doing Mindless Filing (and so on) at a feminist, women-centered non-profit organization (like a women's shelter or POWER or what-have-you).
The rest of the time, I do music/vocal recording/performing, writing (which gets published for pay), making and selling (on Etsy, at craft-shows, etc) jewelry and bath/body products (and potentially other stuff like Recycled Clothing or hand-bags or what-have-you), and doing paid modeling gigs.
Enough steady income, working with an organization that does something that I think actually matters, to make sure that ends always meet, plus enough additional income from the stuff I love doing, and would be doing anyway, to make ends overlap significantly enough that I can still go out regularly and buy pretty shoes and so-on.

The Model Mayhem site is... a little overwhelming. Yes, it's a very handy place to meet people who want to take your picture. It's also... wah... there are a *lot* of people on that thing. It's... It's a way of learning to turn off the people-pleasing impulse, I have to tell you.

Have spent the last hour bopping around Craigslist applying for various modelling and voice-work jobs. We'll see if I hear anything back from any of them.

Anyway. So there's that.

Miss Sara is safely back in Texas (deep in the heart there-of) -- her bus got into NYC late, so she ended up missing her flight (along with a whole wack of other people, apparently). She had to stay overnight in the airport. Good thing she typically sleeps on the floor, anyway, isn't it?) So she's okay. She's got an electrolysis appointment (today, I think, but she managed to get it moved).

Anyway. That's what-all's going on here. I need to (A) harrass my (many) agencies (again), and (B) bag up a bunch of chocolate-bark for tomorrow/Thursday. May also see what I can come up with in terms of xmas ornaments for people. I'll look through my craft box and my beads and see if I can come up with anything.

May also make cream-of-spinach soup (perhaps with oyster mushrooms for added fun!) -- since I've got a tonne of spinach dip left over from the partay.

[EDIT: Have made soup -- was good, but a little too lemony. Must keep this in mind. Also downed the last of the white wine, mixed with the last of my pineapple juice. This was, alas, a terrible waste of *both* the white wine *and* the pineapple juice. :-( Oh, well. You live and you learn. /EDIT]


And Now, A Poem:

Shape Shifter

When i met you
i didn't know
(wouldn't know
until much later)
that, like me you were
a shapeshifter

only difference is
when we met
you wore your true form (at last)
i (still)
wore a mask



- Amazon.
On The Beach

kicking along a beach
surf crashing
i find sea glass and sand
dollars, the iridescent curve
of a muscle shell, long emptied

i find these things
and i find you

familiar stranger

in your
lips and

i recognize

i remember

the woman

i used to be


I rather like this one, personally. :-)
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Aug. 15th, 2008 08:09 am)
I have found a new word:

LIMERENCE: A strong desire for, longing for, or preoccupation with another person, accompanied by a sometimes overwhelming desire for reciprocation. Limerence may be accompanied by idealization of the person so desired.
Etymology: The term limerence was coined by Dr. Dorothy Tennov, who described it in her book Love and Limerence: The Experience of Being in Love (Scarborough House, 1979, ISBN 0812862864).
Commentary: Limerence is distinct from new relationship energy in that it is more akin to what people commonly call a "crush," and may not be associated with a relationship at all. Some researchers have linked limerence to quantifiable physiological processes in the brain, particularly to depressed levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin. Some people in the polyamory community use the word limerence as a synonym for new relationship energy, though this usage is not technically correct.

In other news: Umi is having an open mic tonight, and I think I will go. :-) I like reading my stuff out loud. :-)

The search for an appartment continues. (Wish me luck!)

Last night I went to Nocnitsa's sweetheart's starbucks (it's in the bottom of my building). I got a free drink and a free piece of cake! :-D (Yay! Free food!) And I picked up some information from the Cornerstone Women's Shelter people. (They need volunteers for cooking stuff, so I think I'll look into that). :-)

And: Another poem. (This one is for the Selkie collection).


I mention that I miss the ocean
(Mention it despite the fact that we have no money
despite the fact that I know you’re uncomfortable
with those not-exactly-sisters I used to swim with there
know that I’m missing them, too)

I mention that I miss the ocean

and you

in an act of kindness
(I tell myself, later,
that it had nothing to do with insecurity
or control)

you find a wading pool

for our back yard


- Amazon. :-)
This has been a frustrating morning!

I just spent the last half-hour trying to apply for one goddamn government job.
I had to make a new fucking account.

Which I doubt I'll ever be able to get back to.

I hate it.

I hate them all!

<*deep breath*>

And on that cheery note...

Gods... This is so frustrating. I seriously just want to throw tantrums and hit things and yell at people for not just *finding* me work when it's *their* job to do that.
Which sounds totally unreasonable, even when you consider that I'm working through agencies.


I'm very frustrated and very angry and I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO FUCKING SETTLE!!!
I've been 'settling' for years, living in unhappy, isolated circumstances, in a situation I fucking despise!
Why the hell should I have to settle for the lousy job and the crappy, overpriced appartment.
Why the hell should I have to sell my beautiful, hand-me-down furniture to live in substandard, too-small housing with a lousy-assed landlord who'll treat me badly and smoke in my house???
I've done that every fucking time I've lived outside of my wretched mother's wretched control, and it's always ended up miserable and wrong.
I don't want to do that anymore.
I don't want to settle anymore.
I don't want to take what I can get anymore.
I'm tired as hell of thinking that I'm not worth enough, that I don't deserve something good from the goddamn world.
Why the hell wouldn't I be?

Also: There is an airconditioner directly over my head, and I am cold.

<*puts on shawl*>

See? I could fix that.

<*settles feathers a bit*>


So, I'm pissed off. (Gee, what gave that away...)

And I'm reading The Twelve Wild Swans (Starhawk) which isn't doing a whole hell of a lot right now, because I started midway through (having started reading it a year ago or more). So I think I need to go back to the beginning on that one.

On the plus side, I've been writing some more poetry.
With intent, no less. They are, for the most part, works in progress. Please feel free to comment and critique. :-)


Poetry )

So that's my poetry for today. Two or three for the Selkie collection, and three more for whatever they end up in. :-)

Your help is appreciated. :-)

- Amazon. :-)
First, the latest Selkie poem:

I Used to Be a Seal

I used to be a seal,
slippery in the sea's
salt flow.

I used to be a seal,
I would peel my oil
slick pelt off my shoulders,
to reveal, and
to revel in
my second skin

I used to be a seal,

free to feel, flow, and
roll below the swells
I used to be
a seal,
used to squeal,
laughter pealing,
but the sight of


drew feeling,
(when I met him on the shore)
far too strong
to ignore

I used to be a seal

but no more


This one was jotted down on an envilope at lunch, 'cause that was the paper I had available:

my god

my god,
the smell of queen anne's
lace after Rain,
my god, the very rain
soaked loam, the ferns,
dripping, my
god, the puddles, sky
reflecting, my god
my god
this lush, damp
earth my sweet
my god


Written, yesterday, on the train, while on my way to Ami_B's house (yes, I said HOUSE).

Purple Flowering Raspberry

She's a little piece of heaven
this high bush
tree growin
wild along the highways, by the
bike paths and the weedy queen
anne's lace.
Her flower's like a wild rose,
leaf like a currant bush,
but her fruit
her fruit
is broad and clotted
red around a hard
like bone


Also written on the way to Ami_B's:

Skin Memories

There was a woman on the bus
hardly more than a girl, she wore a
long, pink sweater that clung
to her curves,
the sway of her hips,
just so.

On the high bridge of her sternum
just below her collar bone
was a scar.
The size of a box of paperclips
or the library's rubber date
The size of my two thumbs laid side by each
What caused that scar
to mar her
What burn,
so sharp-edged,
left its mark? It looked
like someone took a kinfe and
sliced her
skin clean off.
I wonder
what grew back there
in its place?


While the train stopped at Carleton U.:

Three Women Walking

Three witches
Three muses
Three women
wise and graceful
chadores billowing
in the breeze

amazon_syren: (Default)
( May. 16th, 2008 06:33 am)
I had a marvelous surprise dinner with Ms Amanda last night. :-D

She brought me fresh pasta and we made sauce with garlic and asparagus, and I made dessert (pre-fab sponge cake + vanilla yoghurt + thawed raspberries).

It was fabulous.


To My Daughter

I was a seal once
before I took off my skin
and became human



choice is
picket fence behind me
open ocean before me
seal skin in my two hands


There's a story between those two verses.

I need to find it and write it down. :-)

Yesterday I: Cleaned.
The job is not done. But I cleared out all the food-substitutes that the tenant left in my freezer (they are now composting in the back yard and, it wouldn't shock me, making the local feral cats very happy. I will need to cover everything in peat moss very soon, I suspect) and composted a lot of the seeds that have been sitting around my house for years.

To do tonight:

Buy 4' worth of small, sodalite spacer-balls (beading) for the making of two necklaces (there may be some silver pearls involved in this purchase, too).

Re-organize kitchen - make use of that now-empty cupboard to clear a bunch of the pans and stuff off the top of the shelves. :-)

Take out the (copious) recycling.

Clear the shattered trellis out of the back yard (more recycling).

Make sodalite rope necklace (to go with the rhodochrysite and cheroite ropes I've already got).

Potentially help Paul move the Huge Desk either into the office or out of the house. (I think I'd like to put that up on Freecycle - the thing is enormous (and heavy), and we don't really have space for it. It would be nice to get it gone. :-)

To do tomorrow:

Register for the day @ Gaia Gathering (around 11am)

Attend "Lost in Translation", "Personal Revelations of the Goddess", "The Last Fifteen Years", and "Queering Our Magic".

Come home (ideally) happy. :-)

Make dinner.

- Amazon. :-)
I want to submit some poetry to dig, an annual poetry (and other stuff) 'zine.

With that in mind, how can I make these better?

Regrets, Unlessoned

Walking down the street in early April,
In shoes (at last), not boots, my
mittens stuffed
unceremoniously into my shoulder bag
My hands feel the freshening breeze for the first time, since
Winter came

A stranger stops me

A stranger stops me,
across the boundary of space to
my skin, to
my hand, and say:
You have got to take better care of your fingernails. No
man's gonna want to talk to you, looking
like that."

like that.

For only a moment (the purest
you could hear a pin drop,
a shoe drop,
a drop that, falling, makes ripples (in the still, cool waters of someone else's lake)

There's a little boy clinging, in a way that says
Big eyes that take everything in.

"How Dare you??" I did not say
"What (the hell) gave you the impression that
am doing this for
(the likes of) you?
I am (the subject of my own world)
NOT (an ornament to yours)!"

I did not say it.

Big eyes that take everything in.

I wish I had.


Old Shoes

You are the comfy shoe
I put on when the day is long and
My feet and
My heart are
Comfortable and familiar, but
I don't want
to wear you out.



The clock ticks

if we met now,
would we have met at all?

The house is silent

cars on the road go by outside the window
you're upstairs and I can hear you

The house is silent

is this the beginning of the end?

The clock ticks
And the present
Becomes the past


Not sure if any of them fit the bill of "challenging, compelling and impactful", or, for that matter, that they aren't "romantic or boring", but we'll see.

Suggestions? Pretty-please? :-)
They came! :-D

I've got "Peace" on the cd-player right now, and will probably throw "We Too Are One" on shortly. :-) "Consensual Genocide" (Leah Samharasinha) is, so far (five or six pages in) proving to be excellent. :-)

I have come up with this:

Sierra Leone

My heart is a mine field,
smooth as any road that gets you
from here to there.

My heart is mine field,
Scabbed over,

Years from now, maybe, there'll be flowers blowing,
In the churned-up earth,

But for now
You gotta watch your step.
Anywhere you put your foot will
an explosion.

My heart is a mine field,
And you are Fred Astaire.

I didn't know I was marrying a dancer.

You didn't know you were marrying
Sierra Leone.

Hopefully "Longing, At Least, Is Constant" will come in a few days or less. :-D

Poetry reading tomorrow night @ Cube Gallery in Hintonburg (on Armstrong st., one block west of Parkdale, I think). 7:30pm. :-)

Have been reading No Way to Live, which is about women and poverty (generally cyclical and abject), specifically in BC, but in Canada in general. :-) It is heartbreaking and enraging at the same time. It's got me thinking about stuff (which is always good).

Also: In my marvelously kismetic meet-up with Commodorified, Raynedaze and Torrain (and Seanchaidh, but that bit was intentional), the subject of how "bad/dangerous neighbourhood" often translates into "noticeably non-white population + working class/lower-income-bracket + women working the sex-trade after dark".
Commodorified mentioned the John Retraining Program )

Gotta go make dinner. :-)

- Amazon. :-)

There's a word on the tip of
your tongue,
A word I've heard before.
I suck it, hard,
right out of your mouth, and
Build myself up
with words that would weigh me down.

[this poem is unfinished. I'm not sure how it ends...]


Winter/Spring 2008

Winter is long, it
from november 'til april.
thick on the sidewalks, and the
drifts are hip-deep,
It's hard to move.
You and I are
calm as an iced-over lake.

Three weeks after the last
snow falls, it's
twenty-five above and the snow is
boiling off the sidewalks.
We crack open
like an ice flow in the thaw.
Breaking up?
Or moving again?



amazon_syren: (Default)


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags