Meanwhile, in today’s Marriage Interpreter, The Husband talks romantic movies, dreams of Moscow, and explains the true difference between men and women. Read on, Reader!
I broke Bluebird Blvd. again and nearly lost my mind. Does my hair look okay? Well, y’all, I broke Bluebird Blvd. for the 8th time in 7 days. I’ve never heard so many technicians say: “I’ve never seen that happen before!”— without a stitch of irony and a little bit of fear. Not only did I break Bluebird Blvd.— yes, again—but I broke every version of Bluebird Blvd. this time, which resulted in two separate technicians having to reinstall the framework for this site from scratch at midnight and again at two in the morning, respectively. It’s better now. But, as I said, almost everything was gone this time.Anything you and I added to the new site is essentially a memory. Your new comments, my new posts— everything.* At three, four, five this morning, I’m sitting here gloss-eyed, trying to rebuild Bluebird Blvd.’s whole system from scratch— yes, again— the upside being that I now know how to break my blog, which means, I hope, that soon I will also know how to fix it. We’ll be back on track in no time at all, right? Yes! Again! Here’s some good news— I’ve got something fun to post on Wednesday morning that I’ve been working on since last week. *Here’s another bit of good news— I was able to find yesterday’s Bluebird Blvd. Five-Minute Dance Party on the mobile version of the site today, just before the site realized that it shouldn’t exist. Woo! And here’s to hoping your Tuesday the Fourteenth is the exact opposite of my Monday the Thirteenth! Best wishes— Courtenay Bluebird.
Olly-olly-oxen free! The move is complete! Come on over to Bluebird Blvd.’s new home and take a look around, tell me what you think. I still have some things to tinker with— some fonts to change out, some CSS to to adjust, some cool new features— but I would love to hear what you think of the new place. Bluebird Blvd.— http://bluebirdblvd.net (Oh, hey! If you visit Bluebird Blvd., you can either grab the RSS/Atom feed and put it back in your WordPress reader, or you can follow by email.) Any which way, I’d love to see you! —Courtenay Bluebird.
And now you can ask a question, share an idea, tell a joke, make a suggestion— all sorts of things, really! — just by filling out this form, which will always be prominently located on every page. Can you find where I’ve put the link? (Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Isn’t this Magritte self-portrait amazing?) Read on, Reader!
Before I even argue— he is looking out the window at somebody coming in. <3 Read on, Reader!
Liza Minnelli’s grand finish of this wonderful number just kills me ever time— so I was hoping that if I posted it, we could talk about it. How does that sound? Gut? Wunderbar! Read on, Reader!
At the end of a long week, the only fitting thing I can find to say is that I am glad this week is done. Now, let the next one begin. <3 Read on, Reader!
Bluebird Blvd.’s year in statistics. Statistics that you helped to make! Read on, Reader!
What do I listen to when writing is hard going? This. This, my friend. Read on, Reader!
Well, Bluebird Blvd. is in the process of changing its blog design. Why? I wanted to make sure you could read this blog on the device of your choice, and this new design provides “responsive width” — Read on, Reader!
My lovely assistant (seen here in a fetching Tam o’Shanter) reminded me that today is Mother’s Day! Thursday was also the Husband’s birthday. Due to this and that and the other, it turns out I will be spending a rare day off with my family! That means Our Sunday Best (and the history of photography series I’ve been writing for you all!) will resume next Sunday. Thank you for being flexible! Please give your families a cheery hello from me! See you on Monday! Happy Sunday everybody! And Happy Mother’s Day!
I’m so excited that Bluebird Blvd. has won another round of awards that my face looks exactly like Salvador Dalí’s in this picture. Or the ocelot’s face. I’m not sure. Possibly both. Regardless of my ocelot-Dalí face, we have won some wonderful awards! First up, I was nominated for the Versatile Blogger award two times in one week by Brian Westbye and Kirsty Ballard! Lemme tell you a little about these folks: Brian Westbye is a writer of fresh flash fiction and some of the most thoughtful short essay pieces I’ve read in awhile. He’s also a stand-up guy, a quality I deeply admire in a person. You’re going to want to know him! Because to know him, is to enjoy his company! Kirsty Ballard, blogger extraordinaire, writes about wide swaths of topics in a cultivated, thoughtful voice. One of the things I love about Ballard’s work is her ability to combine unusual subject matter in a way that makes each item fresh by the nature of her presentation. That’s talent! This award encourages you to tell people seven things about yourself. (As I write about myself on my blog all the time, I’m not sure what you don’t already know.) Um. Well, let’s see: 1) My imagination is so fertile that I will not watch horror films. Occasionally, I will try to talk myself into watching something because it’s supposed to be fantastic or well-written or whatever, but then I get spooked for a month. So, no horror films/television– except for Vincent Price movies from the ’60s and “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.” 2) I love seafood in any form. And I live in South Texas. That means I live in the worst possible location for fresh seafood. I especially adore … Read on, Reader!
The land ran gold this year— a static glitter, wan, burned. Thirst subdued our thoughts. Drought stilled our tongues. The silence of dormancy carries potent weight. The night the rain fell, a bird flew through our house— confused and drenched. Rain relaxed our words, torrents of long withheld reflection. Your hands found the bird. You released her trembling form to the storm-washed wind. This poem marks my first attempt at renku, a highly formalized type of interlinked Japanese haiku and 7-syllable couplets. Although I began my study of poetry at a quite young age, and though my first training was in formal poetry structure, including haiku, I don’t think I’ve ever tried this particular form, ever. I know I broke a number of rules in the process, which is usually not the way I work when learning a new form, but renku carries a weight and an encoded shape that will take me awhile to learn. My knowledge of structuring renku came from two sources: Bay Moon and Wikipedia’s entry on Renku. The Bay Moon source is excellent. You may also want to mosey over to my regular Sunday feature from last week, which is loosely based around a weekly theme. For that week, I talked about haiku, and cool haiku-related things around the internet and beyond: Our Sunday Best : Haiku You. (And check the comment section for some haiku play that started with my new friend Jean Chong! She rocks!)
Tonight I rise from my place at the desk and pull myself smooth and tall. Tonight. I dance to your song, Omara Portuondo, let my bare toes drag across the floor. Tonight the tune that you are singing I know all too well in my bones, too well. Tonight, a mambo pours from the stereo tat-tat-tat— I raise my hands to try to snatch it…. Tonight! I forget myself in the round arms of a song, close my eyes as the horns roll across and under una voz muy sabrosa. Tonight— I sway back, forth, my fingers wrapped around air. The room is too full tonight with the song and the drums and the moon and me and you, Omara Portuondo. ¿Quien canta, su mal espanta, no? And tonight, tonight— your mambo stirs high the dust at my feet. Translation note: una voz muy sabrosa (your flavorful voice) ¿Quien canta, su mal espanta, no? (When you sing, you drive away your sorrow, no?) This question is an idiom in Spanish that I folded into the poem. I wish I had come up with this myself, but it’s typical of the musicality of an idea in Spanish. Love that.
I am so excited! Last week, I was nominated for two awards! The first nomination comes from FicFaq for the Versatile Blogger Award! As per the rules of the Versatile Blogger Award, I now get to nominate 15 bloggers to receive this honor! I nominate: Never Done It That Way Before Ironing Board Collective Blond Zombie She Waited on the Couch to Die Perking the Pansies littleskew The Soulful Contrarian Oregon College of Art and Craft Library A Confederacy of Spinsters Kenley Darling Video Word Made Flesh flappiness is… Mouseblossom Deidra Alexander Life in the Farce Lane Also per the rules of this award, I now have to tell you seven random things about me. Okay? Okay. Seven Utterly Random Things About Courtenay Bluebird: 1. I have worked as professional writer from the age of 20. I’ve written for big publications, but have recently switched tracks because I’m interested in new media. 2. Regarding item one: Although I work as a journalist and features writer, my foundation is in poetry and fiction. I have published in respectable journals, and have one book in print, by a highly-regarded independent publisher/editor. 3. I studied Irish Step-Dancing for 17 years. For about half of that time, I was a small-time championship dancer and soloist. 4. Regarding item three: I finally stopped dancing when I went to graduate school, and most of my joints pop like castanets. 5. For a good portion of my life, I wore stylish, complicated clothes and high heels. It turns out I like jeans and funky flat shoes more than anything. (See popping castanet joints above.) 6. I think in color and am obsessed with color. 7. On that note, my favorite color is deep orange— about six shades darker than a pumpkin, and five shades to the west … Read on, Reader!
You may have noticed these last two weeks that my essays and drawings have been a little on the sparse side. Well, I’ve missed you all. In my brief absence, I’ve been busy working on a thing that needed doing. I’ve been trying to set up my office— the operative word being “trying.” And while I’ve been trying to set up my office, and doing a few other chores betwixt and between, I’ve been thinking a great deal about expectation and boxes and breathing. See, here’s the thing— I’ve been living in this house for a year. Prior to this house, I lived in my last house for nine years. Nine. Years. Even with rigorous editing and donating, I managed to accumulate eight lifetimes worth of stuff. Weird sweaters that don’t fit anyone. A wooden fertility doll with realistic hair. Chairs that go flurp when you sit down on them. It took my entire family to sort out the contents of the last house, shake it into boxes, and cram it into this house. (Did I mention I come from a nice family? Did I mention they read Bluebird Blvd.?) For over a year now, I have lived in a house full of boxes, boxes with Sharpie labels scrawled in my own mysterious shorthand. Every day is a twisted guessing game. Is this the box that contains all of the photography supplies? Is this the box of ‘50s Chinoserie? Is this the box that contains the head of Nefertiti painted in sad scribbly acrylic that my husband altered to make cross-eyed? Did I really label that box Xxliizx? And why does it contain sponges? I still can’t find more than six pairs of matching socks. Half of my lamps are in storage, so I wander in and out of pools … Read on, Reader!
As I’ve said before, I really, really love to draw with charcoal. How about you? Read on, Reader!