Is(sue) 3 of AvantAppal(achia) is up!

Is(sue) 3 is Live! And it's our best one yet. Go check it out and feel free to share your thoughts on it and show it to others. AvantAppal(achia)

(Issue) 3 of AvantAppal(achia) Coming Soon!

Please, remember: you only have one more month to submit to AvantAppal(achia). Deadline for (Issue) 3 is May 31, 2017. We need your avant garde/experimental poetry, short stories, and visual art. Time is almost up! (Issue) 3 will go live on June 15, 2017.

Go Down the "Rabbit Hole"!

Introducing my third full-length poetry collection, "Rabbit Hole"!

It marries the found poem with Gertrude Stein and deconstructs existing language to riff on the concept of the deterioration of language as signifier. Just as at the beginning of the 20th century there was the development of a concept that was at the time called New Morality (sin is a fallacy; do whatever feels good to you), so here in the beginning of the 21st century there is developing a concept that language itself need have no concrete meaning. Facts are in the mind of the beholder. The very fabric of reality as it has been known is unraveling. How we as humans communicate with our world, with other humans, even ourselves is fundamentally shifting. The ability to think and reason is changing. And while all that is serious in nature with consequences that have yet to be determined, this collection approaches it in a fun, almost mocking manner. This is Alice in Wonderland with language itself - you are Alice. As the poet, I am the Chesire Cat, you could say.

In his introduction to the book, George Fillingham writes: ""I want the reader to imagine a dream, a dream of the sort that is not quite a nightmare where the dreamer wakes in terror but rather a dream where the dreamer is led on from curiosity to curiosity, image to image, and, confused perhaps but no less surprised by the images, wakes with a head scratch and begins the day, thinking about the world as a much stranger place than when the reader laid down to sleep ... [In the poems where the language is more] extreme . . . the deconstruction of language . . . [mirrors] the shattered state of language today and the impossibility to understand discourse of any kind anymore. It is as if language itself is designed to disguise meaning rather than convey it."

Are you brave enough to go down the "Rabbit Hole"?

Available today on Createspace; Amazon and other merchants and channels within the week.

Prejudice of the Disabled in Classic Literature and Today

We all love Jane Austen, right? That's *fairly* universal. Well, here's some food for thought.

Mr. Darcy is a character that women swoon for even today and is held up in Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" as a model for all men of gentlemanliness. Consider this, however. In the book, he is betrothed from birth to Lady Catherine de Bourgh's daughter, a sickly, mostly shut-in girl. But, of course, he prefers Elizabeth Bennet. There is nothing wrong with that, per se. Elizabeth is charming and witty and definitely his match. What should concern us as a society, but which is never remarked upon, is the fact that Miss de Bourgh's poor health is used to justify Darcy's complete lack of interest in her. Even Elizabeth expresses disdain when she sees Miss de Bourgh in a carriage as if to say: "Darcy deserves nothing better." Austen also takes a stab at emotional disorders with the character of Elizabeth Bennet's mother.

Perhaps Austen realised that injustice as her own health failed tragically early. In "Mansfield Park", the heroine Fanny Price suffers from mild health issues. She is described as one who requires daily exercise in the fresh air, pale at times, and prone to quick fatigue and headaches. Alarmingly, this is one of the major reasons why the majority of readers describe "Mansfield Park" as their least favourite Austen book. Critics describe the character as unbearably whiny and fragile. The fact that she also has strong principles and conviction to withstand peer pressure is a mark against her as well, regarded by modern audiences as being self-righteous. Most modern day retellings of "Mansfield Park" make Fanny Price much more robust and mischevious. Only in the 1983 BBC made-for-TV mini-series is Fanny portrayed as Austen intended. This version is very difficult to find nowadays. The implication is clear: how could any man truly deeply love any woman who is even mildly challenged health-wise.

This continues today. How many plot lines can you think of which use a spouse's disability to justify and garner sympathy for the able-bodied spouse who is thus burdened and/or commits adultery? Personally, it is too many to count or list here.

The fact that these portrayals have not been pointed out to date is a disturbing reminder that in our modern society it is still acceptable to dismiss and even disdain those who are sickly or disabled. Growing up, I was told multiple times that no one would want to marry me because I'm too much work for a man to willingly accept due to my Cerebral Palsy. While some readers may feel proper indignation at reading that, it is a sad truth for many disabled. We are told, "take the relationships arranged for you by others, marry one of your own kind, or end up alone." Sometimes, you will hear a disabled person remark in a faux-glib tone: "I can't marry." Notice the shift in blame, the tendency to internalise society's idea that the disabled person is at fault because they are disabled and not potential partners and society for teaching those potential partners that it's ok to view a disabled person as a burden or even lacking in character simply because they are challenged. 

Some carry these prejudicial attitudes without realising it. There are those who will talk about how the disabled who need government assistance are lazy and a burden on the taxpayer, but when a relative points out to them that they are disabled and on government assistance, that same person will reply without hesitation "That's different." What is even more frustrating is that these ones fail to see the hypocrisy in that stance and how the rhetoric against the "lazy" also hurts the relative who is "different." Now, it is not my intention to get into politics here. This is simply the best and easiest to explain example of the kind of double-thinking that often happens so that people can somehow rationalise and live with the disgusting prejudicial views they hold and the actions that stem from them.

In the last 5 to 8 years there has been a slight shift in literature. Disabled writers and poets, rather than allowing disable-shaming to silence them, are beginning to write about their experiences, to bring forward characters that open readers' eyes to a challenged person's point of view. This is undoubtedly a step in the right direction. Currently, it is but a whisper in the shouting static of societal opinion, but it is there. 

Perhaps in another couple hundred years...

Spoken Word Review: Ellyn and Robbie's "Skywriting With Glitter"

I first met Ellyn Maybe around 2012. She was formidable then; even more so now. Read my review of her "Rodeo For The Sheepish" album for more of those details. So it's been a while. The world has changed a lot since then. Maybe has moved on from Beyond Baroque into a new scene, poetics in general has continued to change, and Spoken Word has gained more respect as an art form that is both poetry and music - its own subset of art.

Accordingly Maybe has upped the ante since "Rodeo For The Sheepish". "Skywriting With Glitter"  features Robbie Fitzsimmons' ethereal music and vocals. In some ways, this album is much simpler and more emotional than "Rodeo". It's like a dream, a whimsical fairy tale a la "The Princess Bride" , The Little Prince", or "The Point".  This is immediately apparent with track titles like "Myth", "What Color is Your Parachute", "The Girl of the Wishing Well", "The Life of a Raindrop", and "Kingdoms in a City Lost to Time". This isn't merely Maybe reading her poetry over Fitzsimmons music, however. Sometimes Fitzsimmons sings haunting lullabies.

Like many lullabies we were sung as children, these whimsical fairy moments have dark underbellies. I can't decide if these are slightly masked emotional introspection or densely weaved commentaries on modern society. At times they could be either or both. The girl in the wishing well nightly "looks history in the eye" and "chews on life a bit". "The Life of a Raindrop" could be a tongue-in-cheek description of recurring depression or angst. "Onset" is clearly about a midlife crisis. "Kiko of Greenville" is an interesting comment about social media. "Anybody" is about the posturing we as humans do to be accepted by those who surround us. But even in its darkest moments, the album never becomes full blown negative. "Kingdoms in a City Lost to Time" proclaims "you are all that you need."

Fitzsimmons' piano and vocals are intrinsic to the overall other-worldly feel of the album. For me, the best track is "Up Is Down". This is lyric poetry at its best, except it is sung. "Dance in moonlight cloud/ forsake the human crowds/ swim into ancient gowns/ underground// there is a light above/stars in the sea of love /reflection in the scope of all you mention"... "Sink into a world of sand/ just like any other man". I could listen to this on repeat some nights.

"Skywriting With Glitter" trumps "Rodeo For The Sheepish" as well as complements it. It's hard to foresee how Ellyn Maybe can improve on her work from here, but I'm eager to find out. And I'm just as eager to become more acquainted with Robbie Fitzsimmons.

Get your copy of "Skywriting With Glitter" at CD Baby.

"Linger to Look" reviewed on "Braver Self"

Roberta Shultz has reviewed "Linger To Look" on her blog "Braver Self... Tells from the Tall Side".

Among other things, she said: "The over-arching themes of Linger to Look seem to be desire, belonging, transformation, and loss. Many of the poems are spoken in the voice of a woman who longs to dance and break free from the bonds that tether her to dusty reality. Horse, bird, water, and stone images abound. Musical use of language led me to finally read many of the poems aloud to myself to further experience the poet’s skill with sound. ... Linger to Look is a dance of musical language and metaphysical imagery, swirling in experimentation and shimmering in the jingling of human heart."

Thank you, Roberta Shultz, for your kind words!

Black/White. An Art Exhibition

National Poetry Month 2016 Challenge Facebook Group Workshop

National Poetry Month is upon us. This year, to mark it, I am hosting a workshop in the form of a closed Facebook Group.

 The workshop is centered around a writing challenge. The challenge is to write one poem a day throughout April, so that when the month wraps up each participant has 30 poems. If, for any reason, a participant misses a day, then it can simply be made up on another day, so long as the end total is 30. Collaborations are also welcome, if any wish to do so. Length, form, or genre don't matter. The only criteria is that each poem must be a "found" poem with a nonpoetic text as its source. Sharing results is optional.

Although the Group is closed, if any like to join they can message me as the administrator at my Facebook Page "Sabne Raznik".

Join the National Poetry Month 2016 Challenge Facebook Group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/1028734460530372/.

Happy National Poetry Month!

Review: "The Architecture of Chance" by Christodoulos Makris

Christodoulos Makris, The Architecture of Chance, (Wurm Press, 2015) 108 pages, poetry, $19.00 U.S.

Christodoulos Makris has established himself as one of the most important experimental poets working in Ireland today. The Architecture of Chance is his latest offering.

This is an exciting collection. Makris is fearless in his experimentation and is pushing poetry into whole new forms and realms of being. Most notable in this regard is "Chances Are", which he calls a mass collaboration poem. It appears in the collection as its HTML code. This poem can be found in application at 3am Magazine. It is a poem composed of every tweet that uses the word "chance" and updates in real time. Another boundary exploder is "From Something to Nothing" in which he took an informational text on the International Monetary Fund website and cycled it through several languages back and forth on Google Translate and turned the results into a poem that reveals much about the dynamics of language in the age of the internet. Given that Makris hails from Cyprus and has spent time in the United Kingdom while being based in Ireland, this experiment could be read as a commentary on the migrant experience.

Many of these poems are also political in nature. In "16 X 16" he writes: "I would have been a completely different person without the politics and a completely different writer." This is evident in poems like "Metro Herald's Advertorial Windbags Let Loose, 28-31 May & 4-7 June 2013"(which, as the title suggests, is a composition of adverts and editorials from Dublin's Metro Herald newspaper), "Civilisation's Golden Dawn: A Slideshow"(which contains pieces of speeches made by members of Greece's Golden Dawn party, whom Makris describes as neo-fascist), and "Public Announcement" (composed from the signs hanging in the Skerries public library on a certain day).

Others are slightly more domestic. Some are composed from emails or tweets sent back and forth in collaboration. One is composed from bits of conversations overheard around Dublin on a particular day. My personal favourite is "Heaney after Rauschenberg", which takes all the four letter words from Seamus Heaney's first collection Death of a Naturalist and places them in order of appearance. While soothingly familiar in vocabulary, it decenters Heaney's careful poetics almost completely, as if Heaney fell into a black hole when he died and this is all that is left of him in the universe. In that sense, it serves as an eerie, aching tribute of sorts - even as it seeks to shatter the comfortable traditionalism of  Heaney's legacy. Here is a brief excerpt:

"sick home hard blow baby pram when came hand tell they were away held hand hers with next went into room time left four foot four foot year

grey only from cows into like away iron gate into bank with from snug rise dead eyes used soon this they cock from left hand came came down this sake spat take your time more hole tree wild more said into mare hill back like that were that time ones that back when

dark fill dead cold like they line from some keep full tall soon back fish load from surf bend turf fear make they like clay seed shot seem they show good from bark feel roots pits live live wild land root died when lain days long clay with eyes died hard bird huts guts from like were with hope like land pits into sore stop they flop down take fill then cold

west mayo crew they from when with eyes like bone skin rose fell like they kept with beef men's then poor make food they like dogs that been hard when they with they were hope less next like dark once port ship free tart from good swim sink with zeal were

from that held arms came with have them word dead till"

This is definitely a book which requires the reader to "do the work" (Anna Strong), but the rewards are substantial. The break with Romanticism and traditional verse that began with the Modernist movement at the turn of the 20th century is spinning into free fall out of control as we become firmly entrenched in the 21st (much like society in general) and, like other experimental writers like him, Makris is making sure this is well represented in today's poetry. Only, he may be doing it better than most.

You can buy it at Amazon.

Review: "In the Language of Miracles" by Rajia Hassib

Rajia Hassib, In the Language of Miracles, (Viking, 2015), 288 pages, fiction, $19.60 U.S.

Most of the reviews for this book talk about how this very domestic story mirrors the Muslim experience in America since 9/11. No doubt it does. But being someone who has experienced personal and family trauma, I read it less as a socio-political parable and more as the domestic microcosm of one family's troubles that it ultimately is.

The story begins one year after the family's eldest son kills his ex-girlfriend and then commits suicide. The pain is potent and real throughout this novel. Each character is struggling to cope with that horrific event and the ostracism that resulted from it in a different way according to each personality. The father throws himself into work, and being overly concerned with reputation, into somehow convincing the community to accept them again. The mother spends her days in the attic where she can still smell her lost son. The grandmother flies in from Egypt and takes over care of the household and the remaining children, trying desperately to protect them with superstitious rituals and other cultural customs.The daughter spends most of her time at another's house and immerses herself in her faith. The surviving son, who is the focus of the novel, attempts to erase his identity as much as possible and experiences a crisis of faith.

The most memorable chapter describes the mother's effort to get rid of her dead son's effects in the attic. It so perfectly parallels the actual experience of losing a child that the emotion smothered me, as it should. The climax of the story - at a memorial service held for the ex-girlfriend by her family - is chaotic and comical after all the weight of grief in the rest of the novel. Personally, the son's involvement in the scene read as out of place even though it was supposed to be his moment of clarity at last. I couldn't help but think that, instead of saving his family from embarrassment, he added to it. But perhaps that is secondary to his religious epiphany.

This book is a poignant portrait of tragedy and the fallout it leaves behind. The book goes through overwhelming emotional moments and moments of numbness. In the end, just as each family member found his/her own way through the initial shock and pain, they each find their own way to carry on and move forward into a future. It's true that - in an emotional way - one can never go back  home. Things shattered cannot be whole as they once were. But one can make a new home that is just as dear as the original one, albeit different. And the shattered thing can be glued together again. So what if the cracks show? It can still be useful, beautiful, and valued. That is what this family eventually realises.

"In the Language of Miracles" is one of the best novels I've read in the last five years.

You can buy it at Amazon.

"Aura" Receives Award

"Aura" has won a Special Recognition Award in the Photography and Digital Art category of the 2016 Abstracts Art Exhibition on Light Space and Time Online Gallery. The decision was announced on March 1, 2016. See it here! Thank you, Light Space and Time!

"Bright Lights, Big City" Wins Special Recognition Award

Many thanks to the Light Space and Time Online Gallery for awarding Special Recognition to my acrylics abstract painting "Bright Lights, Big City". It will be featured in the Painting Category of the 2016 Cityscapes Exhibition. Prints and other merchandise based off this painting can be got at Fine Art America and the original can be got by contacting me.

"AvantAppal(achia)" and "Human Erased"

2016 has begun and for me - with a bang!

AvantAppal(achia) launched yesterday. I'm really excited about that. I received a suggestion that I should include examples of the type of work we want, but I didn't want to limit it too much. It is for the avant garde, after all. I did, however, include a reference to Wurm im Apfel Press in the mission statement, for those who feel they must have some kind of guide. But it's an ezine about experimentation so I wanted to keep things as open as possible. We are accepting submissions in written, audio, or video formats - as well as artwork. Submission deadlines are May 31st for the June 15th issue and November 30th for the December 15th issue. See this page for details, as well as the email address for all things AvantAppal(achia) related: http://www.avantappalachia.com/submissions.html We look forward to welcoming you to our Kin(folk)!

Also, "Human Erased" (digital painting; dated December 17, 2015) won a Special Recognition Award for the Photography and Digital Art category of the 5th Annual All Women Art Exhibition at the Light Space and Time Online Gallery. It will featured on the Gallery's website for the month of January 2016, after which it will be archived: https://www.lightspacetime.com/all-women-art-exhibition-2016-photography-digital-category/ It is available for sale at Fine Art America: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/human-erased-sabne-raznik.html

It is my hope that all of you have fabulous and challenging (in a good way) year! Thank you all for being loyal as we all head into new, promising endeavors.

Contemporary Appalachian Poetry: Something Taken, Something Given - Three Book Reviews

Jessica D. Thompson, Bullets and Blank Bibles, (Liquid Paper Press, 2013),  32 pages, poetry, $6.00 U.S.

Roberta Schultz, Outposts on the Border of Longing, (Finishing Line Press, 2014),  32 pages, poetry, $12.00 U.S.

Marianne Worthington, Larger Bodies than Mine, (Finishing Line Press, 2006), 30 pages, poetry, $12.00 U.S. 

Appalachian poetry, like its culture, is changing fast. If you think you know what to expect from it, think again. The three books I am reviewing here are on the more traditional end of contemporary Appalachian poetry, but this is not the poetry that came from the region 100 years ago. And it is not the poetry to come in the very near future. Still, one over-riding principle remains for Appalachian poets - no matter how they choose to practice their art: "For something taken, something/must be given." ("Something Taken", Bullets and Blank Bibles, Jessica D. Thompson). 

When one's culture is in a rapid state of change, the urgent need is to reflect that instability while paying proper respect to what is passing. For some poets this means taking something - experimenting with radical new modes of expression in an effort to capture the mood of change and possibly form a language for what must inevitably follow. For other poets it means giving something - attempting to preserve some of what is passing. The three poets in this review are largely seeking to preserve the heritage and culture that is almost faded entirely into memory, that cozy, warm past that outsiders once derided and now seek out as tourists. 

Marianne Worthington is probably the most notable of the three for this patient homage. Her tipping of the hat in Larger Bodies than Mine consists of family portraits painted deftly from memory in careful metered lines. There is very little alliterative play here, but the preciousness of it renders it surprising and rich where it does occur. Most of her collection focuses on various grandmothers. Heaneyesque in many ways, her verse teeters on the thin line of over-sentimentality without slipping over. This is nostalgia on the tongue and in the mind. While the forms rely heavily on meter, she does not make the mistake of rhyming into sing-song.

Jessica D. Thompson writes of the rural setting and a little of family, but Bullets and Blank Bibles is not as polished. It retains a bluntness Worthington does not allow for, an anger biting subtly below the surface. One might call it simply Discontent. Take this line from the best poem in the volume ("Turquoise") as an example: "We measure our life by what we love/but settle for what we are given". That's Appalachian culture summed up in one neat little aphorism (Thompson is good at that). Compromise is everything in a region that both nurtures and murders, and that is something she knows well. As with Worthington, her verse depends much on meter, but she stretches it a bit. It's a little more fluid, slightly unhinged. Alliteration gets more time on the page. But the overall pace is kept appropriately slow, measured, and deliberate, like the passing of the seasons.

Enter Roberta Schultz' Outposts on the Border of Longing. Though I don't think she means to, she serves as a kind of mediator between the more traditional poets of Appalachia and the radical, avant garde. She too pulls mostly from memory for her subject matter (and not all of it is PC), but her style makes the end result feel less lyrical and more confessional. She deviates from variations on blank verse  more than the previous two and tries out forms less often used by the majority of poets on her side of the spectrum (striking example: "War: A Sestina"). Schultz does, unfortunately, indulge in a nauseating cuteness when she writes of her pet cat ("Be Careful What You Wish For"). For one horrifying moment, I thought I was judging an elementary school poetry contest! But then she recovers nicely with this anecdote as an explanation of her poetic philosophy:

"Night vision begins

at twenty minutes - 

ten minutes after most

of us reach for a switch,

flushing our faith with fear, 

leaving us night blind."

("Night Blind")

The encouragement here is explicit. Poetry is about intuition and insight, not the gathering of data or facts. This is even more true when the old modes of expression are rendered largely irrelevant by seismic cultural shifts. So we must allow ourselves to develop "night vision" and write from that.

While it is true that narrative, form, and meter remain strong components for these three poets, their work nevertheless contains powerful realisations that the old Appalachian ways are gone. Wistful and mournful, these poets clearly feel a keen sense of loss and separation from that which made them who they are. In doing so, they give something back to the culture that it is now missing from it. This serves as a needed balance to those contemporary Appalachian poets who take something by forging ahead to see what they can make of what comes next in the blinding light of the new unknown.  

(For full disclosure: this is an unpaid review. No good or services were received.)

Book Review: "Things in Ditches"

Jimmy Olsen, Things in Ditches, (North Star Press, 2000), 312 pages, mystery fiction, $14.95 U.S.

Jimmy Olsen is a thought-provoking writer. His love of the sea and of scuba diving shine through in his work like flashlights on a dark, quiet night. But Things in Ditches comes from an opposite place. It draws from his background in the mid-west by being set in frigid Minnesota in the midst of a blizzard. That's right, folks, read this one with something warm to drink; you'll be cold the entire time.

Things in Ditches turns the mystery novel on its head. How? How about knowing who the murderer is from the opening sentence. (Or do you?) This book is less about solving a twisted puzzle and more about delving into the darker aspects of human nature. It explores such questions as: why are men more likely to commit murder than women? What drives women who seem to have no moral compass? How exactly do the dynamics of small towns play out in such scenarios? Why do some women tend to forgive and forgive past all common sense? What causes certain crimes to become sensationalised in the media and popular culture? Can justice be served when it does? How are innocents hurt - or (perversely) benefited - by that? How do people live with those things?

It took me quite a while to get into it. There are a lot of characters, connected by a large and complicated web, introduced in the first half. Often, I found myself flipping back a few chapters to remind myself who a person was. There are some grammar, spelling, and punctuation mistakes. Also, like a bad soap opera with an inexperienced editing crew, there are tiny continuity glitches in a handful of scenes. But if you can stick it out, the action gets rolling in the second half and it becomes difficult to put down.

I can't say whether you'll be satisfied with the answers that Olsen ultimately offers to all the social studies questions this book asks, but I can say you just might be disturbed by his conclusions. And maybe that's the point. Maybe we're not meant to be comfortable with the honest glare of human nature we're left with. You decide.

(For full disclosure: I received a review copy from the author for this review.)

Up and Coming: More Reviews and a New E-zine

It's been quiet on this blog, but busy in the background.

Up and coming:

 -- Reviews of three poetry collections procured at the Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School.

-- Launch of new e-Zine for the most groundbreaking avant garde in Appalachia and the world.

I've been working on this one since the middle of September 2015 when the idea fully crystalised. My involvement with Wurm im Apfel Press in Ireland since 2010 has demonstrated to me how valuable, even vital, experimentation and the avant garde are to any healthy, living literary scene. The Wurm poets infuse Ireland with a dose of much needed excitement and energy, challenging the established modes of expression and pushing poetry into entirely new territories (Christodoulos Makris' Twitter poem "Chances Are...", anyone?). Then in July 2015 I had the opportunity to attend the prestigious Appalachian Writers Workshop at Hindman Settlement School. There I found a good reception to my work, but generally a resistance to avant garde and indy publishing. Although the literary landscape of Central Appalachia is maturing once again into a more united, supportive community than it was 20 years ago, with a much more contemporary pulse, there do still tend to be certain conventions and traditions too "sacred" to be challenged. As far as I know, there is no publication that directly supports and encourages full experimentation, where rules exist to be broken and made new. Many editors of literary journals and presses told me at the Workshop that "there is a lot of work (they) must reject because it is too avant garde." I determined to create a home for that avant garde.

Introducing: "AvantAppal(achia)"

As you will see, the website has not launched yet. Web design is nearly complete. I may soon have a co-editor to help me with sorting submissions. We meet next week, hopefully, to hammer out the last few details before launch can take place. But it is coming soon! The Kin-folk - Ed(itor)s - at AvantAppal(achia) are proud to fill this gap in the literary scene of Central Appalachia, bring you earth-shattering new work by Appalachia's finest and around the world, and welcome you as Kin. Watch this space for more information!

Annual "Best Oriental Dans Videos on Youtube" Article is Retiring Permanently

I have decided to retire the annual "Best Oriental Dans Videos on YouTube" article for good. If anyone wants to pick up where I've left off, you're welcome to! My fascination with oriental dans is not at an end, but hopefully I will soon be moving on to better things for which some sacrifice is required. All past articles - originally published on Yahoo Voices- are now on this blog. You can access them via the relevant labels in the cloud to the right. As consolation, here is the reigning queen of Tribal Fusion at her best. Enjoy!

"Water" Wins Special Merit Award

"Water" (digital painting; dated May 5 & 6, 2015) won a Special Merit Award and was included in the 2015 Open/No Theme Art Exhibition at the Light Space and Time Online Gallery here: https://www.lightspacetime.com/open-no-theme-art-exhibition-september-2015/ It will feature on the website for all of September 2015.

Joie De Vivre: Maiden Voyage Down the Russell Fork River

Joie de vivre. The joy of living. That's what we're after. That's what we're always after. And having it takes boldness. We are the Sissies.

It may not have looked like boldness to others. We were a group of 6 women. Most of them are older. I'm in my mid-thirties, but have Cerebral Palsy. I am not a strong swimmer, even with a life jacket to do the work of keeping my head above water. But we live in Elkhorn City, KY. - gateway to the Breaks Interstate Park known as the Grand Canyon of the South - and if you live there you are a river rat. Going down the river is what everyone does, so why not us?

The Russell Fork river has world class rapids when the dam is released in October with names like El Horrendo and the Meat Grinder. Most in our group are experienced river rats who know the river's currents and surprises. For two of us, including myself, it was a maiden voyage. Despite an unusually wet summer, the river has been low all season and we figured that would make it ideal for newbies. We decided on rafting a portion of what is known locally as "the fun run", which starts at Ratliff Hole and brings you into the city. This stretch is less dangerous than others and can be done in about an hour by experienced rafters.

In preparation, we shopped for gear. We ended with a four-man raft and a three-man triangular raft that is meant to be towed behind another boat. I got a new life-jacket and modified it according to my specific needs. Someone brought a floating cooler.

I admit I was apprehensive about going down the river. After a lifetime of falling, I have developed numerous related phobias, including an aversion to that flip-flop feeling in the stomach that happens when you go down a hill too fast or get on a roller coaster. I was not confident about my abilities to navigate a raft or even stay in it. So I found myself propped against a man-sized rock at Jesse Mack's just above Ratliff Hole - jacketed and braced, with sunglasses and a hat - waiting for the other girls to get the rafts to the water. "Don't worry about water snakes," one of the Sissies said. "It's a case of leave them alone and they'll leave you alone." I wasn't thinking about snakes. "It's too late now, so in you go," I told myself.

It was rocky there, so I was helped to the triangular raft. It has three holes to sit in, which gave me a place to lock my legs into the raft to hold me in it. Once I was in place the tri was launched and my companions boarded. The other raft, with the floating cooler, took a bit longer to get in the water and we soon lost sight of it.

The tri steers by spinning rather than going in a straight line. I was thankful for my dancer training (via DVDs) on how to spot when making turns. This kept me from getting dizzy and help me stay oriented. At first, I left it to my more experienced companions to man the oars and concentrated on holding on. I didn't know what to expect up ahead.

Since the water was low and the current slow, we spent most of our time avoiding rocks and getting unstuck. Many rocks were clearly visible under the water. The tri was slow-going. "We got the minivan," we cried out to the others, "you got a Ferrari!" Ferrari would pass us and those Sissies would pull to the shore in order for one of them to smoke. Then we would pass it, back and forth. A curious heron flirted with us along the way.

The first rapids we came to were nerve-racking to me, but we rode them without incident and I thought: "This is no worse than a water rapids ride at an amusement park."

By the time Pool Point came into view, I was starting to relax. I've heard many stories about Pool Point. People jumping from the bridge often lose their shoes. Old timers say that years ago a train derailed there and the car that sunk was never found. A hiking trail leads from the road to the river there and locals have tied a rope for swimming. I have walked the bridge, but could never hike down, so seeing Pool Point from the vantage of the river was awe-inspiring for me: the bridge spanning above like a steel high wire over the emerald ribbon of deep calm water against a dirty white sky. Some boys swimming there laughed at us while we hooted and hollered to hear it echo back off the cliffs around us.

At Sand Hole, we caught up with the Ferrari again and took a moment to get a drink from the cooler. Then we went on.

Eventually, we came to Cold Springs. We got stuck on some rocks again, so a Sissy got out to pull us free. "If I get out, I can help too," the other said. "No, no!" we insisted. She did. The raft lifted off, got grabbed by the current, and zipped away.

I was alone in the raft with no experience whatsoever to guide me! I turned in time to see a Sissy dive after me. Clinging to the side, she was going down the falls unprotected! What to do? I twisted around and locked hands with her to keep her from  ripping away. "You have to steer!" she commanded. My left arm is stronger, so I held on to her with my right and paddled with my left. Her head was near the oar. I had a vision for a split-second of her sinking to the bottom with a gashed temple. But I swallowed that fear and paddled on. "Where do I go? Where do I go?" "Head to shore, if you can," she answered.

Soon the raft grounded on rocky bank. The Sissy waded in and pulled it up securely on shore. "I have to go back for E. The river will eventually rock you back out. If it does before I get back to you, just hang tight. This is Long Hole. I'll catch up with you before you get anywhere. In the meantime, don't move."

Don't move. Okey Dokey. I did, though. I was contorted into a painful position and had to raise up to see back up the river. E. was still standing in the middle of the river where we left her, bewildered. But I was surprisingly calm. It was a scary minute or two, but I hadn't panicked. I had taken control of the situation. "I've got this," I thought. No fear.

Enter the Ferrari. As E crawled across rocks to the bank, it rocketed through Cold Springs without a hitch. We then regrouped where I waited, grounded.

The Sissies in the Ferrari had their adventure at Sand Hole. After we went on, they reboarded their raft. But in doing so, the cooler flipped over. The weight of the drinks inside opened the lid, releasing the hydration to the depths below. One of them dove after it, but it was too late. The drinks drowned. It took a while in the telling between the laughter.

We traded out Sissies and continued on. It was mostly calm waters to paddle through after that. I was now confident enough to take turns with the oar. One Sissy even jumped off and took a swim.

We got out at Blue Hole (a.k.a. Carson Island). The Sissies in the Ferrari had gotten there before us. A fire was already crackling. We had a fine picnic. We sang. We laughed.

Some criticized me for going down the river. They claimed that doing so with my health was a reckless disregard for life. The fact is that the Sissies would not have allowed me to if they thought I couldn't handle it. I couldn't care less what other people think about what I do. I'm sick; I'm not dead. Joie de vivre. The only way to live.

Being Ophelia (Video)

Ophelia is, like most Shakespeare characters and particularly the women, a complicated part to play. She is sweet, innocent but not unknowledgeable about what men get up to in their spare time, in love, heart-broken, fragile, uninhibited, and in the end a kind of mad prophet of impending doom.

For the final assignment of Coursera's "Shakespeare In Community" class, we students were asked to make a video of a piece of any Shakespeare play. This afforded an opportunity to showcase our acting skills and creativity. However, I am only beginning to learn the ins-and-outs of Windows Movie Maker, so I decided to keep it simple.

"Hamlet" is one of my favorite plays and Ophelia is a character I can relate to. She is an innocent victim of events, but strong and wise in her own way, even after she descends into madness. So I chose her soliloquy from Act 3 Scene 1. But to portray Ophelia requires more than emoting Shakespeare's poetry.

First, there was the consideration of what my Ophelia should look like. I rarely tease my hair or use hairspray because it damages my hair extensively, but Ophelia is the daughter of the King's counselor. As such, she would dress well. I chose to clothe her in black and red because I wanted to convey that there is more to Ophelia than meets the eye, but chose simple makeup due to her youth and sweetness. (Also, my corset is red and black; one must work with what costuming one has. *shrugs*) The heart-lock and key earrings symbolise her relationship with Prince Hamlet. The lace-like cover-over convey her modesty and proved to add a dramatic touch at the end. It was rainy out and that resulted in wonderful lighting that I could not have arranged.

Then I moved on to more abstract considerations. For instance, in our modern world, how might an equally fragile and complicated woman react to the tragedies that eventually drove Ophelia to madness? That question brought the song "Chandelier" by Sia to mind. One could even argue that the lines "I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry, I'm gonna swing from the chandelier" could be something Ophelia was feeling as she drowned at last. The scene where she hands out the flowers spouting her prophetic riddles could equate to this verse: "Help me, I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light, cos I'm just holding on for the night." Therefore, I chose to sing them in my "Ophelia Descends into Madness" scene to add a touch of the modern to my Ophelia.

The red nose was added to the costume in that scene to emphasise that Ophelia has at this point and in some measure lost touch with reality. I didn't realize that it is the first ever Red Nose Day in the U.S. today, until after I had made that decision (but in the famous words of Gwendolyn Brooks: "I have no objection if it helps anybody").

Getting in the emotional place for Ophelia's soliloquy took some preparation. I drew from my own experience with doomed relationships and listened to Sia's "Chandelier" on repeat while I dressed. Ophelia would have felt her pain deeply and without restraint of any kind.

Here is the text of Ophelia's soliloquy:

"Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!—

The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s, eye, tongue, sword,

Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion and the mould of form,

Th' observed of all observers, quite, quite down!

And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,

That sucked the honey of his music vows,

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;

That unmatched form and feature of blown youth

Blasted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me,

T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!"

Now I present to you the finished video to enjoy or criticise as you will: