"Some calls it madness...I calls it HiDeeHo." - Cab Calloway
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Saturday, August 17, 2002



Josh gave me this book. It is so edifying to see professionals teaching the very same techniques I have used to write.

I don't think I have the ovarios to teach poetry, but I sure as hell am not afraid to write it, to live it, to sing it out for you.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/17/2002 12:54:00 PM

It's been a while since I did one of these. Here it is:

Tea tree oil. It's antibacterial, antifungal, anti-inflammatory and now there's even research to see if it's antiviral. I kind of sneer at naturopaths sometimes, but here they are on sound ground.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/17/2002 12:45:00 PM


I won a major award!

Well, okay, so it's not a plastic leg lamp. But see what you can get for showing your love?

This is what you can get.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/17/2002 08:32:00 AM

Thursday, August 15, 2002


13 August 2002

My dearest Bob-o-links-midnight-train-to-Georgia:

Oh, that I may bask under your bright shady forest glen! The pines have globs of sugar and spice dribbling off their branches e'en in this dry season. Stand under them and you'll become a sweet nibblette for the deus ex machina. Don't you want to go on the cart? I'd rather jump the rope over the yawning Abyss and hop and hope I will not miss.

So, salty doglette, my river of tears has long since dried away, and the cranes have flown to cooler climes to spend the remainder of their days. Your yellow pompoms notwithstanding, I shall forsake the cookies in baby stages for the desire of your fire and smoke and mirrors. Alight upon the cherry and burn, Boblette, burn!

These hours are precious to me, those in which we may mix bleachy-catpiss metaphors and inhale the fumes. Getting high on the spunk of madmen is our chosen leisure. Have a particular licor del loco in mind, have we? Nay, we shall exhange a taste of our ginger ghee for an extra syllable from him and slap it in willy-nilly (he gave us this syllable - "laff.") A patchwork document, ragged holy and smeared with butterfly scale dust. Such is the love I have for thy ragamuffin bottom!

I heard you shout, "YES! Give me more, Lady Stop-Diva! Go not to your appointment with the moneychanger! Stay with me, eat pappadums with me, breed more shining kittens!"

I say to you, my mimosas are in bloom, and so I must away, but remember this: The rainbow Abyss has no beginning and no end, and neither does the sullied part in my curly auburn locks. You are plugged into the biggest battery in the world and you ask ME to stay? Thou naughty wench! I would render thee senseless with the beanbag gun of my affection, but lo the day wears on. I must whore my fingers to the bone making patient physicians make patient sense and myself make patient cents and impatiens scents. But it's all for you, Ethel. All for you and the kittens.

With every bit of love I can muster to pull out of the mirror,

Your Sakura Meliad

(Note: This is a custom surrealist love letter. You need something to freak your lady or wiggify your daddy? I'm your girl. Email me with requests.)

(Addendum: This was one of the winning letters. See above. Now I can start my portfolio!)

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/15/2002 08:03:00 PM

WARNING: Contains heresy. Reader's suspension of disbelief is advised.

The sky is gray with tinges of pink and peach. Dragonflies swarm past my second-story window. It's thundering up, and I hear a clunk.

God is stuck in my box fan and is gunking up the motor.

Rrrrrggggugggg! the fan says. Gughguhzzzzzzzap.

God says, hey chickie. Yeah, YOU! You in front of the wizzy-box. Can't you give a God a hand?

I clap for him.

He rolls his steel-blue eyes and grumbles, paganii. All think they're so Me-damn funny.

I breathe in and my lungs are rehydrated with the cleanest smoke ever. God clears his almighty throat. I have Altoids lemon drops mixing with the nicotine steam, and the taste is so new, it makes my fried tastebuds spin. Novelty gets me off hardcore. I offer God a smoke or a lemon drop, and he declines.

God says, you shouldn't smoke those things.

I say, why not?

God says, because your body is a temple and you're polluting it.

I say, now come on Godman, cut me some slack, blood. I can pollute my body and then flood it to wash out the pollution, but ruin the furniture. I can burn incense and tatter up some of the curtains and announce my communion with fire to the world. Why don't you care about my temple couches? Do you know how much those things COST? I mean, where will the sacred prostitutes receive your blessing? The floor? Are we animals?

He says, okay, okay. Just trying to help. Just blow it over there. He fans the air in front of His face with His hand.

I say, well thanks God. (puff puff) I will keep that in mind. Let me know if I can do YOU any favors, 'kay? Anyone you want smote from the earth?

God says, no. Not offhand. But tell that little spiky-haired gremlin you've been schlepping around with to quit thumbing his nose at me. He's one of the chosen and he thumbs his nose. Oy! His mother would die!

I say, yeah, he's a chosen one all right. I have dibs!

God says, nuh-uh.

I say, uh-huh.

God says, the mohel gave ME dibs.

I say, fine. You got dibs on the shred. I got dibs on the leftovers.

I lick my lips and yank Yahweh out of the fan, and say how's about a kiss, Loverman, mwahmwahmwah? Been a while since you came a courtin', Jev.

He laughs and scratches his beard. He says, ah, I know, but with this whole Catholic thing, this whole Israel thing...I've been busy. I've been thinking about you though. Been keepin' my eye on you.

I say, well, don't be a stranger now, y'heah?

God kisses me on the cheek, tweaks my nose and dissolves back out through the screen. It starts raining. I light another and think of ways to stay unrepentant.

It rained all day and all night. After a drought of nearly a month with temperatures nearing 100 nearly every day...my heresy brings rain. Thank you .

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/15/2002 07:56:00 PM

I'd sit there with my mind a complete blank while the monkey scribbled on little pieces of paper. At the end of the week, the teacher said, "Class, I want you to write a paper using your notes." So I wrote a paper that said, Hello, my name is Bingo, I like to climb on things, can I have a banana? Eeekeek!

She gave me an F. When I told my mom about it, she said, "I told you never trust a monkey." The end.

I feel kind of like Brak now. My mind is a complete blank and my monkey is scribbling away. Ask him. I have ideas and thoughts and stuff all squishing out the edges of my mind, and what's the best I can come up with? A budget for the next two months and a balanced checkbook.

A day or two ago, I was in fine form. See posts above. Now...I don't know. Hm...

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/15/2002 07:52:00 PM

Wednesday, August 14, 2002


A vernal stirring
A flutter of thaw
The frogs are peeping
Unwind your lianas
And drag them down
Tracing paths of cells
Amidst hill and plain
Beltane trees covered with buzzing blossoms
Petals dropping away, two by two
The bellfire chains flow and bind, the drums accelerate
Engulfed in bright whirling mystery
In the dentata cave, tremolos send the blindcats scattering
Seasons accelerando turn to the height
Heat and ripened fruit, blown rose to red hips
Crunching seeds, tasting sprouts
The drums slacken down

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/14/2002 11:10:00 AM

Monday, August 12, 2002

I leave you the short soundtrack of the life I left behind me, my days of freedom of the mind:

No. 13 Baby - The Pixies (purple)
Night Into Day - Oingo Boingo (black)
Lullaby - The Cure (white)
Bullet the Blue Sky - U2 (black)
Pepper - Butthole Surfers (red)
The Dunmore Lasses - traditional Scottish (blue and gauzy, whirling, grinning, silver disks tinkling, one night only!)

and for the walk home to sleep...if I was lucky:

Let there be Drams - John McCusker/Battlefield Band version
Champagne Supernova - Oasis
Love For Sale - Billie Holiday version
Whiter Shade of Pale - Procol Harum
In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel

Somehow in that context it never sunk in. These songs will take me back to the Big Easy no matter where I am, no matter how respectable what my current money-making endeavors are. Overexposure, indeed. Can I afford to go home tonight?

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/12/2002 02:08:00 PM

Moments of silence. Nothing happened, really. I just feel overexposed, and like I don't wanna tell nobody nothin'. I'm going to go hide in a cave, and when I come out, the chronicle will resume.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/12/2002 11:31:00 AM


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