New Poem

We had a really fun poetry event this past weekend at WGC, called Across State Lines. It was a night featuring a bunch of fantastic poets spanning the Ohio Indiana border including Hoosiers Tony Brewer and Joseph Kerschbaum, local poets Joanna Schroder and Rachel Wiley, and Andy Anderson and me.

It was a great time and a lot of fun to hear everyone's work. I hadn't really read in awhile so it was cool to get back up on stage. I ended up reading some old stuff and then some new pieces that I'd never done before.

I hadn't posted in awhile so I thought I'd put up one of the new ones that I did on Saturday:

Grocery Shopping

Strategically sorting we go cavorting
finger tips grazing
produce beaded with fresh spray
Turnips and romaine artificially moistened
gleaming like Big Mac Lettuce

We unconsciously grab staples with ease
bread, milk,eggs, cheese
cart wobbling hands bobbling wondering
if we can afford Gorgonzola

Seconds precious no economy to waste
with army precision we hurtle through linoleum miles
through deli and dairy, can gooded, freezer cased.

There are those items that we can never find.
We think the employees move them in the night like elves.
Deftly dislodging products and shifting shelves.
Laughing through blanks smiles as we beseech them to locate
barley, fried onions, lentils, or coconut milk.

Checkout cuing science applied
ballparking in split seconds the shortest distance to commerce
measuring minutes by inches, by items, by body language of fellow pilgrims.
Line chosen, like marriage for better or worse,
we stand waiting reading Us Weekly, and People
getting our gossip via glossy covers.

Hand in hand we leave, back to life
back to the rough feel of parking lot pavement
ready to chop, stew, slice and spice our way
to sustenance. Victoriously hefting our brown paper trophies
we lock step triumphantly through the woosh of glass doors
Horizontal panes parting submissively
in the wake of our comestible supremacy.
We exit, conquers into the sunlight.

Now, where the hell did we park?

Captain!

So I know they're late in coming, but I thought I would finally post some pics of our little buddy. These are from this past fall when Jac and I took a trip to Michigan to visit my bro at college. My sister snapped these pics and kindly sent them to me labeled "Adorbes Photes" an abbreviation I thought quite nice. In any case here he is in all his tiny glory.

Things lately (ish)

Someday, in the future, when our brains are half computers, we'll simply be able to think our blogposts and BLAM there they'll be uploaded and ready to go. There won't be any of the annoying lag time between posts, no, it'll be a constant stream of witty, insightful, poetic, and captivating notions all integrated seamlessesly as we munch our morning cereal. Sigh.

Until then I must do better about writing on here from time to time. I like it when I do it, so here goes: some new things going on in the lives of Ryan and Jacqui.

Captain
We've got a new little buddy to keep us company. He's a 3 month old dachsund named Captain and he's really, pretty fantastic (more and better pictures coming soon!). We got him from a rescue place up near Toledo in late September, and so the past few weeks have been at equal turns fun and challenging He's a total puppy and goes from completely unconcious with weariness to racing around like a torpedo and chewing everything he can get at. He's been great at making friends with people and we love him a lot!

Whistling in the Dark
Jacqui and I, along with our friends Karl and Jessie, are working behind the scenes on a play! It's a ghost play called Woman in Black and is being put on by some friends of ours who started this really great theatre company in town called Whistling int he Dark Theatre. It's felt really good to get back to working on theatre and Wild Goose Creative has more coming this winter with a partnership with the guys at Whistling for their Christmas show Jacob Marley's Christmas Carol, should be a good time.

Our House
I realized I never really blogged about it, but WE BOUGHT A HOUSE. Of course this was back in July so some of the newness has worn off, but surprisingly it still feels like we're settling in, in a good way, and making it home. It's in a great part of town on a quiet (except for the occasional train) little street called Como. Built in 1942 it's a three bedroom brown cape cod. Some of our favorite parts are the little sunroom off our bedroom, the screened in porch off the sunroom, the great backyard off of the porch (it's a little cozy labryinth), and the finished basement. We love having people over so feel free to invite yourself over anytime...

Free Beer, Free Food, Great Music

Join us for a special concert, one night only!

August 15, 2009 • 8pm

Tickets at the Door • Pay What you Want • KIDS any age FREE

FREE FOOD and BYOB or enjoy FREE BEER on us! Sponsored by PBR!

Morgan Foster, and father, Joe Foster, join us to share a night of new songs, old standards, and great stories.

Lead singer of the popular Chicago based band Common Shiner, Morgan Foster is no stranger to the spot light having played in some of the Windy City’s most celebrated venues. Foster’s songwriting, which has been described as “heartfelt…epic but humble, and full of stories that draw you in and make you listen up.” with lyrics that have a “pop sensibility, that people can really latch on tom,” is beautiful and sure to be a highlight.

Dad, Joe, is no slouch either, originally hailing from the east coast and now a folk charmer throughout southwest Michigan, Joe plays some of the best old timey folk tunes you’ve ever heard. Joe is also a fantastic storyteller weaving in a fascinating and hilarious anecdotes between each song.

In this rare joint show both will bring their own unique style and presence to the stage as they offer up an evening unforgettable stories and tunes.

Bacon Poem

This is a new poem that I wrote for Bacon Camp, an event that happened at Wild Goose Creative this past weekend. It was a celebration of all things bacon, including over 15 different food entries, craft and art pieces, and many, many pounds of bacon.

As part of the event I was asked if I would write some bacon slam poetry, which was ridiculous and fun. In a rarity of photographic fortuitousness you can actually see a picture of me performing this very poem live here. I love Emma, who wandered in during the middle. There is no doubt she upstaged me with her unbearable cuteness, a fact which I am perfectly okay with :)

Bacon Days

The pop of the grease nearly making me blind
worth the barrage of hot spit
just to sit and hear it sizzle
memories turning in the back of my mind.

Saturday morning cartoons
and dad’s famous eggs
which in life I was later to learn was
simply achieved by the addition of
Velveeta cheese and a dash of milk
yellow smooth like silk
as he whipped the yolks to a froth
and scrambled his way to family legend.
Easy trick, but he never let on,
content for our humble adoration
as we praised his culinary creation.

Truth be told though we were just being nice,
lauding the scrambled centerpiece
but all the while eggs, an after thought
our hickory smoked brains waiting for the slam and sizzle
on the griddle for the thick cut slices to reign down
and generously fill our bellies with
sweet and salty sustenance.

It was and is still true that there is
never
enough
bacon.
It’s a statistical, empirical fact.
It’s salt, it’s fat, it’s smoke, it’s crunch, it’s chew,
and you
you can always eat one more half morsel,
savor one more partial slice poached from a friend’s platter
or rejoice over one more unearthed crumble
hiding like pink gold glistening like
Yukon treasure from under the toast or hashbrowns
boring bedrock concealing a coveted gem
ready to be mined.

Just briefly, I’d like to pause this poem
for a quick public serve announcement
And it is this:
If you out for breakfast and it comes times for a sausage vs. bacon decision,
Always get the bacon. There are no exceptions to this rule.
To take it a step further if they should
give you the choice to mix and match
do not be fooled.
Always get ALL bacon.
In the moment there might be some deluded part of you that thinks
“Hey, what’s the harm in mixing it up a little?
A little bit of this, little bit of that, little sausage, little bacon.”
Wrong.
You will always be disappointed.
And you will treat the sausage differently,
covering it syrup, pushing it around your plate,
silently wishing that you’d just done
what you knew in your heart was right.
And that’s just not fair to sausage.
Sausage has it tough enough as it is
simply by virtue of it
not
being
bacon
without you and your false hope.
This announcement was brought it to you by
you guessed it
Bacon.
Back to the poem.

l feel it now like nostalgic smoky potpourri
(or maybe pork-pourri?)
hand turning over handle
cast iron sizzle pop blanketing my house
with the fine aroma of
summer vacation
of snow day,
of honeymoon
of those secret mornings where
there is enough time
to forgo granola
pass on the poptart
take a sabbatical from cereal
and snuggle deep under the covers
for 10 more minutes
before you can’t take it
and you need to go find
and embrace
whoever is making your brain
explode with goodwill, joy and
holy culinary reverence
towards breakfast,
towards your fellowman
and towards the world.

New Poem

Untitled

My breath hits the glass and the molecules collide.
There is carbonated death in the air as
atoms twist and condense between streetlights.
and through windows warfare sparks in the millimeters between souls.

I’ve traded in circles of light for smoke,
walking down crooked sidewalks with
burlap sacks of ash and soot,
scattering filament and fog over the shoulders of strangers and lovers alike.
Once perfect photons tarnished, collapsing into neon knots
and phosphorescent ghosts.

In the middle of the day
we wake to dreamy silence deafened by the
heavy weight in our brains, wearing chemicals
like overcoats, enthralled with the backside of shadows,
trying to look underneath and peel back electrons from thin air.

I have given too much and asked for too little.
Accustom to the haze I shield my eyes from the blinding blaze
and wait for morning to come.

On your mark, get set....

Each year down in Buda, TX there is a fun little event know as the Buda Wienerdog races. This is their poster for this year. Enough said really.

The reasons I'm up on the latest news about an obscure animal sporting event down in Texas sadly, are multitudinous, however they are in no small part to due to my purchasing a little ground breaking film I purchased for Jacqui's birthday last year. Brilliant on so many levels it's been a real driving force in changing the face of modern cinema.

One of these days I'll get down to Buda and take in the festivities myself. Road trip anyone?