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Name: Lynn
Country: United States
State: Illinois
Metro: Chicago
Interests: Writing, reading, tennis, more tennis,baseball (Cubs!), fiction writing
Expertise: writing, a little singing, journalism, editing, talking endlessly about my cats
Occupation: journalist, writer
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
8/18/2004
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| Why I'm not hereFor all of you who think I've died, or lost interest, or don't like my Xanga friends anymore (impossible!), or who just don't care, I have a message.
I've discovered, as have many other writers, that sometimes it's a matter of getting the manuscript done or writing blogs. I lose so much valuable time zipping around the Internet and Xanga really is the time sink that I can't afford right now. As much as I love writing essays and visiting all your sites, I can't do it. I must get this ms. done (and I'm very close) and the sooner the better. So, I've suspended my blog until I can get back to it in full form.
I hope when I come back that I'll still have some friends over here! I really do love this place, but when it's a duel between work and fun, sometimes work wins out.
See you all later. We hope it won't be more than a few weeks.
Lynn
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| Poetry and piratesI found myself at another poetry reading tonight. Only this one was good. It featured Marc Smith, the inventor of the poetry slam. (And don't believe anyone who says they invented it. He really did about 22 years ago at the Green Mill Lounge in Chicago. I interviewed him about it at the time.) Also on the bill was Kevin Stein, the poet laureate of Illinois. I didn't know we had a poet laureate, but I guess we do. He was appointed by Blagojevich, but don't hold that against him. (Everyone in the crowd was booing Blago.)
Just when we thought we were safe, pirates strike again! It's true. They went after another American boat and the U.S.S. Bainbridge blasted them. There was a big firefight and they were driven off. Apparently Capt. Richard Phillips was still aboard the Bainbridge. I swore I read they flew him home stateside for a medical exam. Did they return him to the Indian Ocean? Sounds strange. Something's got to give here, but I can't see us getting into a third war. I like the idea of putting armed marshalls on some of the boats, so that the pirates won't know which boats will blast the hell out of them. But I do think it's time to stop coddling those bastards with ransom money.
No more politics on this blog for a while. People are getting really hopped up lately and I am getting weary of getting drawn into real-life arguments. It's time to stay cool.
The Nephilim (giant offspring of angels and men) were brought up in yesterday's blog. (Gen. 6:2). Andrew Collins did a whole book on this subject called "Ashes of Angels." While most people toss this off as myth and nonsense, Collins finds some actual evidence for ancient people who had giant skulls and odd skeletons, living in the Mideast area. It's a good read, if pretty fantastic and I suggest it to anyone interested in the subject.
That's it. These tidbit blogs are much easier to do.
Lynn
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| Pirates and other tidbitsI figured that since I can't come up with normal blogs anymore, a bunch of short ones will have to do. In fact, this solution might be better.
It was a great day for the U.S. when the Navy Seals took down those Somali pirates and saved Navy Capt. Philips. If we had paid those Somali creeps off it would have looked very bad for the most powerful navy in the world. It was very gracious of the French to offer assistance (heck, they only had one hostage killed in their last three missions), but lately Americans don't seem too taken with the French. This, despite the fact that they helped us in the Revolutionary War, gave us the Statue of Liberty, and had been fast friends of ours for many years. And it would have been Hell for Obama if the Somalis got away with their little plan. It would have been worse than Jimmy Carter fretting away in the Rose Garden while Iran toyed with American hostages.
Yes, this turned out dandy for just about everyone. Except for the wackos on the Far Right, who will come up with some conspiracy theory of the other that blames the White House for everything.
I really like tea, so I'm totally against a bunch of morons dumping bags of it into our lakes, rivers, and streams. I even saw a video of some goon tossing a plastic bag full of tea bags into a body of water. Very green of you, sir! Those plastic bags will be floating around when the human race is no longer remembered. All this over a 3% tax hike--no, make that a rollback of a tax break--for wealthy people. Most of these tea-protest people won't even see $250,000 in their lifetimes. But they must dump little baggies as if they are making some grand statement.
The problem is, folks, the Boston Tea Party was about iaxation without representation. Dressed up like Indians (Lord knows why), colonial Americans dumped real tea (not that sawdust they put in Folger's bags) into Boston harbor to protest the English king's taxes on then essential beverage. We had no representative in England protecting our interests, so over the bow the Darjeeling went.
Today, we have plenty of representation. In fact, some say too much. Taxpayers can write congressmen and senators, petition the White House, even (if the issue really were tea) boycott the grocery store. So, all of this looks exceedingly silly. One guy said to my husband, "If Obama goes on like this, I don't know how I'm going to live." Over 3%. When fellow citizens are living in tents and shanty towns. When middle-class people are tossed out their houses because of seedy sub-prime mortgage companies and their practice of ever-ballooning rates. When people making double six figures can't figure out how to live because they need to pay their fair share again, then maybe it's time to wake up to reality. Make an extra strong pot of tea, protestors, because there's not all that much caffeine in it.
The spring that never sprang. That's what we seem to be caught in here in the northern portion of the country. No matter how many times the weatherman lies, the temps rarely get above 55. The buds are sitting around waiting to pop, but nothing happens. We have crocus blooms, but nothing else. So, what do I hear this Easter? I get a call from my son (yay!). And where is he? The beach. OMG. What I wouldn't give to be there right now. The forecast for the next few days: the 40s, with rain. This, too, shall pass. But my sanity might be left behind.
Lynn
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| Obama, Michael Moore, Life and EverythingWhile I still try to figure out what I'm going to do blog-wise I thought I'd put this up, I know it's cribbed, but I think that's the author's goal: to get as many readers as possible. Before you hit the delete button take a moment to think about it. I did, and I'm glad I took the few moments to reflect.
For once, filmmaker Michael Moore makes good sense in this letter he's sent around the Internet. I know that a lot of you don't like him. I think he's made himself unpopular because 1) he made a crazy speech at the Oscars, 2) he's fat and needs a bath, 3) he doesn't know when to shut up, and 4) he's to the left of Che Guevarra. But I never held that against him. I've interviewed him and found him to be not only bright and articulate, but he doesn't need a bath at all. He's quite the thoughtful fellow. When he's correct, he's spot on. In his letter, he points out the enormous impact of a news event that a lot of us just yawned at the other day:
Friends,
Nothing like it has ever happened. The President of the United States, the elected representative of the people, has just told the head of General Motors -- a company that's spent more years at #1 on the Fortune 500 list than anyone else -- "You're fired!"
I simply can't believe it. This stunning, unprecedented action has left me speechless for the past two days. I keep saying, "Did Obama really fire the chairman of General Motors? The wealthiest and most powerful corporation of the 20th century? Can he do that? Really? Well, damn! What else can he do?!"
This bold move has sent the heads of corporate America spinning and spewing pea soup. Obama has issued this edict: The government of, by, and for the people is in charge here, not big business. John McCain got it. On the floor of the Senate he asked, "What does this signal send to other corporations and financial institutions about whether the federal government will fire them as well?" Senator Bob Corker said it "should send a chill through all Americans who believe in free enterprise." The stock market plunged as the masters of the universe asked themselves, "Am I next?" And they whispered to each other, "What are we going to do about this Obama?"
Not much, fellows. He has the massive will of the American people behind him -- and he has been granted permission by us to do what he sees fit. If you liked this week's all-net 3-pointer, stay tuned.
I write this letter to you in memory of the hundreds of thousands of workers over the past 25+ years who have been tossed into the trash heap by General Motors. Many saw their lives ruined for good. They turned to alcohol or drugs, their marriages fell apart, some took their own lives. Most moved on, moved out, moved over, moved away. They ended up working two jobs for half the pay they were getting at GM. And they cursed the CEO of GM for bringing ruin to their lives.
Not one of them ever thought that one day they would witness the CEO receive the same treatment. Of course Chairman Wagoner will not have to sign up for food stamps or be evicted from his home or tell his kids they'll be going to the community college, not the university. Instead, he will get a $23 million golden parachute. But the slip in his hands is still pink, just like the hundreds of thousands that others received -- except his was issued by us, via the Obama-man. Here's the door, buster. See ya. Don't wanna be ya.
I began my day today in Washington, D.C. I went to the U.S. Senate and got into their Finance Committee's hearing on the Wall Street bailout. The overseers wanted to know how the banks spent the money. And many of these banks won't tell them. They've taken trillions and nobody knows where the money went. It certainly didn't go to create jobs, relieve mortgage holders, or free up loans that people need. It was so shocking to listen to this, I had to leave before it was over. But it gave me an idea for the movie I was shooting.
Later, I stopped by the National Archives to stand in line to see the original copy of our Constitution. I thought about how twenty years ago this month I was just down the street finishing my first film, a personal plea to warn the nation about GM and the deadly economy it ruled. On that March day in 1989 I was broke, having collected the last of my unemployment checks, relying on help from my friends (Bob and Siri would take me out to dinner and always pick up the check, the assistant manager at the movie theater would sneak me in so I could watch an occasional movie, Laurie and Jack bought an old Steenbeck (editing) machine for me, John Richard would slip me an unused plane ticket so I could go home for Christmas, Rod would do anything for me and drive to Flint whenever I needed something for the film). My late mother (she would've turned 88 tomorrow if she were still with us) and my GM autoworker dad told me in the kitchen they wanted to help and handed me a check for an astounding thousand dollars. I didn't know they even had a thousand dollars. I refused it, they insisted I take it -- "No!" -- and then, in that parental voice, told me I was to cash it so I could finish my movie. I did. And I did.
So on that March day in 1989, as I was driving down Pennsylvania Avenue, my 9-year-old car just died. I coasted over to the curb, put my head down on the steering wheel and started to cry. I had no money to take it in to be repaired, and I certainly had nothing to pay the tow truck driver. So I got out, screwed the license plates off so I wouldn't be fined, turned my back and just left it there for good. I looked over at the building next to me. It said "National Archives." What better place to donate my dead car, I thought, as I walked the rest of the way home.
Though it wasn't easy for me, I still never had to suffer what so many of my friends and neighbors went through, thanks to General Motors and an economic system rigged against them. I wonder what they must have all thought when they woke up this Monday morning to read in the Detroit News or the Detroit Free Press the headlines that Obama had fired the CEO of GM. Oh -- wait a minute. They couldn't read that. There was no Free Press or News. Monday was the day that both papers ended home delivery. It was cancelled (as it will be for four days every week) because the daily newspapers, like General Motors, like Detroit, are broke.
I await the President's next superhero move.
Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
MichaelMoore.com
(Go State!)
P.S. Please know that it has not been lost on any of us from the Rust Belt how our corporate bigwigs were treated (remember, the auto companies wanted a loan, not a handout) compared to how the titans of Wall Street got trillions of free cash, lunch at the White House and a photo op with the Prez. Trust me, we get it. And, if there is a God in heaven, the thieves of Wall Street will soon pay. Also... the sight of our president having to promise that he would back every GM warranty and give consumers a bonus if they trade in their old Grand Am for a hybrid, was alternately sad, hilarious, and just plain weird. This is what it's come to: the Commander in Chief of the Free World is now Mr. Goodwrench. Jeesh.
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| Living life on life's termsTalk about ups and downs! Things have been a little strange here. The day I went over to the grad school to find out what went wrong with my application, it was absolutely freezing. I thought I was going to just freeze in place, and the parking lot was many blocks away from the office I needed to go to. Then I found out that they loved everything I sent in--except one essay. The woman in charge kept jabbering about one sample and the lack of "character development." She also called it science-fiction, which it definitely was not. I've never written science fiction. Then she urged me to re-apply, with a different writing sample this time. And she wanted me to re-apply ASAP. From the sound of it, they loved me, couldn't wait to have me--except for this one little problem.
I went home extremely confused (and $35 poorer from the parking garage) until I found out from another professor (who wrote me a recommendation) that what I was getting was code for "oh my God, she might be a science fiction writer!" And the faculty simply cannot deal with that. They teach literary fiction only. No sci-fi, no romance, no fantasy, no mysteries. I asked him why they thought it was science fiction and he told me there was a computer in the chapter. A computer means science fiction? Apparently so. I could have laughed if I wasn't getting so outraged. I easily could have substituted anything they wanted if they just called, but, no, they had to go through this crazy dance.
Will I reapply? I don't know. I sure could do well with saving the money. I don't want to start in summer, so I'd have to wait until fall. I've got from now until then to work on my current ms. and get it out the door to agents and publishers. Maybe I don't need this school experience at all.
Then we come to the weather. After that freezing day downtown, it warmed up until we had a mini-spring. Today, St. Patrick's Day, was in the mid-70s. Heaven. And it's March. In Chicago. Usually we have freezing rain about now. Don't worry, we'll pay. Tomorrow they are promising rain and 40s. But, hey, about four days of spring weather in March! We don't get that very often.
So, wow, lots to think about.
Thanks for all the words of support about this blog. I really appreciate it. I think I can go on with my blog of trials and travails of a writer. I've got a great idea for my next project, which will be non-fiction, and I'd love to see what you think about it. And I promise NO MORE COMPLAINING about rejections from agents or publishers. They have their right to their opinions. Grad schools do too--even if they are weird.
Best for a very non-Irish lass,
Lynn
P.S. to Boo. I know you liked the arts thing I did every week, but it really did become a chore. When I got to that part of the week, I started to dread it. That's not what we do blogs for.
And to everyone. I know you like pictures, but I'm really, really bad at uploading them. You just have to understand that about me. I'll try my best.
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