We saw Godfrey and Co at a fellowship/picnic as a prelude to Wordstock2005. I wish they did some new ones but I'll give it to them..they were Tight. I wish I had more time but I'm heading out the door for our first show. Pray that it goes well...it's very slap-bang. Adios.


Liz's Fables

A sage woman told me once, "There is no one you can't learn SOMETHING from if you'll only listen, even if it's discovering how not to be a complete moron." Nah, but seriously, even the greatest morons most likely know at least one thing that you don't know.

I try to carry that over even in my day to day Observations. I might even start a section called, "Liz's Fables" or some other cunning way to show that I am indeed a person with a very high, profound character. (ha ha. no, but seriously) As illustrated in this true yet witty, and moral-ridden story:

Last night at around 2am (Character #1: I am a dedicated and hard worker) I was out by the puppet theatre painting my finishing touches -- intricate caligraphic wording on the banner; my piece de la resistance (Character #2: I have panache and style). I'll admit, I was pretty darn tired. I was frustrated with all the obstacles that had been popping up that I'd had to brainstorm and find solutions for. (Character #3: I am resourceful) I was pleased to be alone. (Character #4: I value solitude as a time to become ever more enlightened)
As I hunched over my work on hands and knees, I spotted a bug scurrying across the marble floor. Not just any bug. An ugly bug. (Character #5: I am discerning) In the course of the day I had seen plenty of insects ranging from your everyday savage mosquito to the exotic Yellow-Bellied Sapsucking Spider. (Character #6: I am in touch with nature) But this bug would never be considered a looker, if you catch my drift. So I did what all good-natured humans would do.
I squashed it -- squashed it good and hard.

It was in that conclusive moment that I witnessed The Lesson. As my Hand of Doom lifted from the remains of the Ugly Bug I saw a feeble green light flash out of his buttock region.
Too late I realized, I had squashed a firefly.

Now, I love fireflies. I appreciate the magic they lend to the dusky evenings. But here I was, dooming him to Everlasting Sleep because of my first impressions. I'm sure that firefly's green bottom was a star in someone elses' sky.
I was ashamed.
I learned.

Moral: Before you completely annihilate the next less-than-butterfly material that crosses your path, try to figure out if he/she might not just be a green-light-emiting-magically-from-butt firefly. No, no. Seriously.

And if you ever see me looking at you in a funny way, head cocked to the side, listening to what you're frothing about. It's probably because I'm trying to glean some knowledge out of your rythmic mouth motions.
Please just don't spit on me.


In case you were wondering..

you're A-OK

There's a new pope in town. I believe he'll find the shoes of JP the Second big ones to fill. That guy was a hipster. Now, this could be urban legend, but I heard tell somewheres that Nostradamus said This New Guy was supposed to be the last pope, lasting 10 years or such. Maybe it was St. Malachy. Correct me if I'm wrong. I'm too lazy right now to research.
I've been painting a giant puppet theatre about 6, 7 metres long for the past week. I'm coming down to the home stretch and it's starting to get taxing. All my little creativity cells are depleted and the only thing I'm good for is saying funny things in spanish.
I'll post pictures of it and all that good stuff soon. I've also had some very clever thought processes...but those for later. Now...
Yo tengo en gato en mis pantalones.

The silent watcher.

I'll admit, I'm fascinated with how people act and why they do it. One of my favorite things to do is just sit and watch people. I ponder who they are, what they might do, why the dress the way they do and what kind of underpants they're wearing.
(in my book, 85% percent of the population wears a rough homespun variety)
Interaction with other humans is wonderful, I admit I indulge in it from time to time. There's so much amusement to choose from I could go on for ever.

The point is. I stole this from Caffein and Me. I'm a Chestnut Tree(The Honesty). Chuckle, chuckle it seems to fit me. But I'd also class myself under "the Extraordinary", "the Profound" and "the Fishless".

So tell me what kind of seed you are?


Free Day.

The first in a very long time. I'd almost forgotten what they tasted like. Today, it tasted like Asado and beer..a Very Satisfactory Taste all in all.

For those culturally-impaired, an asado is like the Latin equivalent of a barbeque. Only with much more style, much more meat and much more "gusto". You roast giant slaps of cowflesh over an open fire, drink beer, socialize and enjoy your neighbor as yourself.

I walked down to the local corner store, a dusty but fascinating walk, (there are the most magnificant mountains towering nearby, you have to strain your neck to see the tops, I'm in awe) and bought the beer for the occasion (corona is so cheap I could cry) which me and my cuz lugged home between the two of us in a crate (the man gypped us 5pesos after hearing our bad spanish, bah!)

When our feast was through I went and jammed for a coupla hours. Tooo cool. I've begun more to realize just how fascinating it is to tell a story with a guitar. I've been experimenting with strum, rythym and...the word escapes me..help me out here, you know when you build up to something, climax, slow it down, and play with different sound levels. For the record, guitar is so very sexy.

I've come up with some funky tunes so we messed around a bit with those, Cuzin Martinito is learning violin and that right there, my friend, is my dream. An electric acoustic guitar, a bass, drums and a violin.

I can't even get close to describing it but music makes the quiet corners in me scream, it uncovers the secrets I keep even from myself and tells me it understands perfectly. It bursts me into a thousand pieces and holds me together with each following note. If you know what I'm talking about, rock solid.

Lordie all this talk has gone and made me excited.
The guitar calls.
I must relieve myself.


The Ravaging of a Goat.


Attack Dogs -
Rotweiler 1: George
Rotweiler 2: Attila
Rotweiler 3: Beast

Witless Labrador Sidekick: Lance

Tender Morsel of a Goat (Victim): Blondie

A Myriad of Humans of Various Hights, Shapes and Color Schemes including --
Strong Boy and Cousin Martinito

And of course, Liz --

Setup: Midnight. A high wall surrounds a Spanish-style villa and courtyard. Various plants of style to suit. Scattered lights in house windows streaming out onto tile stones.

Act 1 - Girls room: Girls lounging, reading, chuckling, dressing, undressing, checking selves out in mirrors, listening to music, and sundry other girl pastimes.
Their calm is broken by horrfic sounds of ravage. Namely, the bloodthirsty snarls of Attack Dogs and the heartwrenchingly pitiful "maaa" of a baby goat.

Boy outside: George! Beast! BACK!!! BACK!!! TO ME!! OFF!! GEORGE!!!!!


Girl 1 Upstairs: What the..?
Girl 2: Oh, the dogs trying to get at Blondie again, good thing he's in his pen.

Liz, dashing downstairs, curiosity killing the..uh..goat: (thinks) hrm...i wonder?

Scene 2:
She steps out the back door and gazes upon the scene of carnage in front of her. Lying expiringly on her side, breathing shallow, eyes closed, and covered in the slobber of Rotwielers -- Blondie.
Strong boys are wrestling Attack Dogs over to their pillars and restraining them with reinforced steel chains.

Blondie: maa..aaa..

Strong boy, cupping goat head in hands and feeling it's neck: Hmm, it's neck could be broken. I don't see any blood. It could have internal hemmorhaging.

Frantic Girl: I KNEW this would happen! I KNEW it! Blondieeeee....(bursts into tears)
Young Boy: (bursts into tears simultaneously) They walk off, heads bowed.

Liz, concerned observer: Hmm. It could possibly be in shock. It's breathing is shallow with a rapid pulse.

Strong boy: It's neck is covered in spittle. Looks like that's what George went for. (prays)

GOD: It is not mete that this humble creature of mine should die by the teeth of George. I will raise it, even as unto Lazarus. Be whole, Blondie, live and be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.

Blondie: Baa! (lifts head feebly and kicks)

Chorus of Hurrahs!!

Liz: Swell! (feels guilty for thinking of roast goat)

But all is not well yet, for lurking just over head, darkness cloaking him in shadow stalks Ferobar, the dread Tarantula. Creeping slowly, slowly ever so stealthily towards the nearest joyful, downturned head.

Startled kid: AH!!!! A TARANTULA!!! RUN! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF! (leaps 10 feet, is airborne and is never seen or heard from again)

Cousin Martinito: Ah ha! I've caught it. Come Liz, now we will eat it. I'm told it tastes like Shrimp.

Liz: Hurrah! I'll try anything once. To the grill!!!

Cousin Martinito: Oops. I seem to have killed it accidentally, it's gooey now. Let's wait till we have a fresh one.

Liz: I concur.

Narrator: A goat lived, a spider died,
A girl laughed, a boy cried.
A beast was loosed, a beast was tamed
A girl named Liz was never the same.

I kid. She was the same.




"Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat." Theodore Roosevelt



I have officially moved to Mexico. I know this partly because I hear mind-blowingly loud Chico music wafting softly from the next door over, partly because I've been having spanish classes every morning, a little because I had cactus and beans for dinner but mostly because I took an achingly long trip to get down here and I sure as...anything..had better've ended up in Mexico.

Yeah, so my first transfer was packed full (*&^^*) so I had to wait around in Columbia *creepiest town in world* for a full 8 hours. I was hungry. I was frightened. I was lugging around 200 lbs of my worldly possessions (I harbored a few daydreams of making a bonfire of it and traveling with nothing to my name but my boots and my geetar)

But the Good Lord works in mysterious Ways, His wonders to behold. The next bus that came along was worth the wait, in my opinion. It was practically empty which meant I could take two whole seats for myself and lay myself upon them in a fetal position for a full 4 hours. Ahh, the unheard of luxury.
The only downside was every station I went to I had to ask "When's the next bus going vaguely south?" and then attempt in my luggage-dragging condition to catch said ride.

So there I went, Atlanta (at 2 in the morning. dark. deserted. heh, i probably looked like a rabbit about to bolt), Mobile, New Orleans, Houston, millions of little podunks in between, till finally I arrived in San Antonio at 1:30 am..after 40 sleepless hours(I was originally supposed to get there at 4pm the previous day)

I could've cried when I realized my ride is Not There. Long story but I waited...and waited...and waited. In the meantime, 3 fights broke out for which the police were called, 1 man refused to board a bus and yelled Very Loudly, 2 drunks and 1 homeless woman were kicked out, a young black boy proclaimed "I'm a virgin" to the entire waiting room, and I was lewdly propositioned by a smattering of bold fools. Luckily, I was too tired to respond to any of these delights.

Finally, at 4am I was rescued.

The next day I hooked a ride with some friendly folk who were heading to my new home and there you have it. Next I'll tell you all about "el culture" and Project "Love Castle".

Later dudes..or as I've learned in Spanish Lessons: Sayonara Hombres.


Screaming about abso-positively-nothing...

I'm pleased to have a guest onto Faire un Nom.
Scallywag, best friend, future best-selling author, and if she hadn't a' said it -- I probably would have...in not so articulate terms.
So without further ado:

“Robin Bennett, associate director of the medical genetics clinic at the University of Washington, said that laws prohibiting cousins from marrying are ‘a form of genetic discrimination.’”

Ever feel like you’re not really doing anything worthwhile? Try being…um…Robin Bennett. He spends his time at the University of Washington studying whether or not marrying your cousin is a good or bad thing and coming up with brilliant stuff like “genetic discrimination.” After the years and years of birth defects, this guy comes to work one day and says “I wonder what would happen if first cousins marry each other?”
OK, so maybe someone wants to know what the percentage rate is of their child being born with a defect if they meet the love of their life at a family reunion. But when you consider that the entire globe is going to crap because we’re using all of its resources and filling the air with pollutants that are destroying our only protection against the sun (yes, the ozone), well, it sort of makes you feel a little…sad. Now consider the man with lung cancer, boy wouldn’t he like to find out the percentage rate of his survival. No, please Mr. Bennett, study the effects of marrying your own relatives.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, how would you feel if your boss said “Hey Joe,” (Joe being your current pseudonym in your current life at CNN-on-the-internet) “I’ve got a story for you.” You sit with abated breath waiting for “that” story to fall into your ever-so-ready lap. “There is a couple in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania” he says “who, aside from being a married couple, just so happen to be FIRST COUSINS.” He tells you with a c’mon-buy-this sort of grin. Since I’m not a reporter for CNN, I have no idea what this man does next – call up the 411 hotline and say “hey, so who’s spending their time studying…” and you tell them your story and they give a name. Well, I don’t know how it’s done, but somehow this person hacks up a twelve paragraph story (very short paragraphs) and goes home that night with a feeling of accomplishment, no doubt.

Some days, people should just stay at home and not do nothing. If you feel that marrying your cousin is a very important thing in your life, please marry that cousin (Maryland allows it, there are 26 states that do). But for the love of God, don’t tell anyone about it! When your kids come out with defects, you’re invited to put their pictures on CNN to warn other people of such things as “genetic disease” (boy, the hours that went into naming that disease).

But if you’re not going to do anything,
please don’t do it.


A classic

I feel rather like Phineas Fogg on his 80 day adventure, although sadly I haven't encountered any wild savages, flown in a hot-air balloon, or rescued a princess. (but don't worry, it's only just begun)...
I'm staying with a good friend of mine (Scallywag) till next Monday when God Willing my 30 hour bus trip will begin. I'm redeeming the time by painting, drawing and catching up on 5 years worth of missed sleep. Hopefully I'll have something to show for it. Thanks for all the well wishes and prayers, they're heavily appreciated.
I am SO not planned out in this, it's one day at a time.
We'll see how this turns out.