Thursday October 28, 2010 Winthrop Fringe Festival
Eleanor Rigby Restaurant
133 Mineola Blvd.
Mineola, NY 11501
$12 admission includes food, drinks, door prizes & live performances. This includes bands, poetry bash, drummers, comedians & jugglers.
All proceeds go to buy books for children in the Pediatric Department of Winthrop University Hospital.
To be a reader as part of the poetry bash, contact Christina Eng at 516-663-4412 or reachoutandread@gmail.com.
This information was relayed to me by Gail Goldstein. Thank-you Gail.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Creativity Can Be Found at Starbucks
I'm convinced that Starbucks brings out my creativity. Anytime I go there are always people working on something; textbooks out, notebooks out, laptops out. For writers, such as myself, Starbucks is a source of constant inspiration. It is a great place for observing people as they go about doing things, their facial expressions, their clothing, their body language,etc. After all people from all walks of life come into Starbucks. They don't just cater to one type of person, which is part of makes Starbucks overflow with the electricity of creativity. Observing folks helps me build stronger charcters as well as improve my obervation skills and my memory.
The irony is I rarely drink coffee. I hav eto feel well and not be anxious in order to consume a cup of joe or else I get jittery and more anxious. Nine out of ten times I drink unsweetened iced green tea, which some how calms my mind and lifts my spirits. It's like an opening in rain clouds that allows the sunhine to come through. It inspired me so much I wrote a poem about it.
Sometimes I just sit down and open my notebook and brainstorm--writing down what ever comes to mind first. That is ironically how I came by the title of this b log. Sometimes my brainstorms can go on for pages and pages, and sometimes I sit at Starbucks for hours and hours. Then I go back and look at my brainstorms and occasionally somethign will stand out. One day when I was at Starbucks, I was jotting down ideas and sentences,etc, and I got stuck! It was if my brain became constipated; when the truth is a million thoughts were just competing for priority in my brain. So I stopped for a bit. I began to read a book I had with me. I heard a loud noise! I looked up...and I thought "Caveat Lector!" and a las that is how that poem got written.
Maybe it's the lighting. Perhaps it's the chairs. Maybe it's the coffee or tea. Maybe i's the barristas or those who go to Starbucks. Whatever the reason creativity lives and breathes at Starbucks!
Ok more shameless plugs (these are all Starbucks related)
Ramblings from Starbucks
Portrait of the Artist
Observations from Starbucks I
Observations from Starbucks II
Brainfarts from Starbucks
Lifeforms from Starbucks
Inspiration from Starbucks
There are many more, but p erhaps in another article I will give more shameless plugs
The irony is I rarely drink coffee. I hav eto feel well and not be anxious in order to consume a cup of joe or else I get jittery and more anxious. Nine out of ten times I drink unsweetened iced green tea, which some how calms my mind and lifts my spirits. It's like an opening in rain clouds that allows the sunhine to come through. It inspired me so much I wrote a poem about it.
Sometimes I just sit down and open my notebook and brainstorm--writing down what ever comes to mind first. That is ironically how I came by the title of this b log. Sometimes my brainstorms can go on for pages and pages, and sometimes I sit at Starbucks for hours and hours. Then I go back and look at my brainstorms and occasionally somethign will stand out. One day when I was at Starbucks, I was jotting down ideas and sentences,etc, and I got stuck! It was if my brain became constipated; when the truth is a million thoughts were just competing for priority in my brain. So I stopped for a bit. I began to read a book I had with me. I heard a loud noise! I looked up...and I thought "Caveat Lector!" and a las that is how that poem got written.
Maybe it's the lighting. Perhaps it's the chairs. Maybe it's the coffee or tea. Maybe i's the barristas or those who go to Starbucks. Whatever the reason creativity lives and breathes at Starbucks!
Ok more shameless plugs (these are all Starbucks related)
Ramblings from Starbucks
Portrait of the Artist
Observations from Starbucks I
Observations from Starbucks II
Brainfarts from Starbucks
Lifeforms from Starbucks
Inspiration from Starbucks
There are many more, but p erhaps in another article I will give more shameless plugs
Shameless Pluggin'
As some may know, I write for a few sites. Below are my latest three articles from each of these sites. Please take a look. Thank you in advance!
Associated Content
Birth Colors
Random Rants I Politics and Stuff
Historic 9/11
Bukisa
Songs About Sports
Remembering 9/11
Facts About Confucious
Examiner
Perspectives
George Wallace: poetry's rock star
Bard's Initiative Calls for Submission
Associated Content
Birth Colors
Random Rants I Politics and Stuff
Historic 9/11
Bukisa
Songs About Sports
Remembering 9/11
Facts About Confucious
Examiner
Perspectives
George Wallace: poetry's rock star
Bard's Initiative Calls for Submission
Friday, September 10, 2010
Remembering 9/11
Remembering 9/11
I thought for remembering 9/11 this year I would put up a poem I wrote "with" William Shakespeare. This sort of poem would normally be called a cento, a compilation of lines from one or many poets. However, I did something a little different here. Shakespeare supplied the words; I just changed a few of them to make them relevant to 9/11.
In Remembrance
Two factions both alike in dignity
In fair New York City where we lay our scene
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny
Where civil blood makes hands unclean.
From forth the fatal horror
Comes our faithful foes
With their ignorance, they tried to overthrow
Doth even in their deaths, hatred still grows.
The fearful passage of two death mark’d planes
Into two towers, was not a shower of power,
But one of rage. This was not acting on the world’s stage.
This was all too real. And in rememberance it is hard to have
The feeling we feel. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace
Profaners of the human race! Will they not hear? What ho,
You men, you beasts! That quench the fire of your pernicious
Rage, with purple fountains flowing from your veins—
On the pain of torture, from those bloody hands. Throw
Your mistempered weapons to the ground. Hear not the hatred in
Your heart. You have twice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, And
Made New York and the world’s citizen’s fearful, but not weak. I am
An American. Hath not American hands, organs, dimensions,
Senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt by the same
Weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal’d by the same means you are?
If you pricks us do we not bleed? The Weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. To be or not to be that is the
Question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows
Of outrageous hatred, or to take arms against a sea of trouble. And by
Opposing them, end them.
*note: Some of you may be reading this more than once as I am putting this up on my examiner, associated content, and bukisa as well.*
I thought for remembering 9/11 this year I would put up a poem I wrote "with" William Shakespeare. This sort of poem would normally be called a cento, a compilation of lines from one or many poets. However, I did something a little different here. Shakespeare supplied the words; I just changed a few of them to make them relevant to 9/11.
In Remembrance
Two factions both alike in dignity
In fair New York City where we lay our scene
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny
Where civil blood makes hands unclean.
From forth the fatal horror
Comes our faithful foes
With their ignorance, they tried to overthrow
Doth even in their deaths, hatred still grows.
The fearful passage of two death mark’d planes
Into two towers, was not a shower of power,
But one of rage. This was not acting on the world’s stage.
This was all too real. And in rememberance it is hard to have
The feeling we feel. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace
Profaners of the human race! Will they not hear? What ho,
You men, you beasts! That quench the fire of your pernicious
Rage, with purple fountains flowing from your veins—
On the pain of torture, from those bloody hands. Throw
Your mistempered weapons to the ground. Hear not the hatred in
Your heart. You have twice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, And
Made New York and the world’s citizen’s fearful, but not weak. I am
An American. Hath not American hands, organs, dimensions,
Senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt by the same
Weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal’d by the same means you are?
If you pricks us do we not bleed? The Weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. To be or not to be that is the
Question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows
Of outrageous hatred, or to take arms against a sea of trouble. And by
Opposing them, end them.
*note: Some of you may be reading this more than once as I am putting this up on my examiner, associated content, and bukisa as well.*
Various Ramblings and Such
It is the wee hours of the morning or extremely late at night. It depends on how you look at it. My head is pounding and my nose hurts-ah the wonders of the sinus! Nothing like a traffic jam in your sinus! The pounding is kind of like people honkingtheir horns. My nose hurting is kind of like that two ton truck that cut me off on the highway last week, but I digress...
I keep a notebook of quotations that either make me laugh or make me think, or in some cases both. I am currently browsing through it. And the quotation of the day is:
"There is an element of truth in every idea that lasts long enough to be called corny" ~Irving Berlin
Speaking of corn...why do they call those carbuncles you get on your toes corns? I mean where is the corn's ears. Why can't we eat toe-corns?Would we want to eat toe corns? Cream of toe corn soup!
I never said I was completely sane. After all if you have a great imagination you can come up with some pretty far out there ideas. I mean I wrote an article once about farts in outer space. I just wanted to make people laugh,and I did. Might be a little a gross to some, but seriously the way the world
is we need more laughter...and love...
I sometimes get "annoyed" with my mother if she doesn't laugh at my jokes. I put annoyed in quotation marks because I am not really mad. I just like to hear people, especially mom laugh, at my jokes. Nine out of ten times mom does laugh.
I may put some of those surveys from Facebook on here. Sometimes I answer them truthfully. Sometimes I answer them with weird and out there answers. Sometimes I mix it up a bit leaving my friends, family, and colleagues thinking what the heck was she thinking? Is she really a nutter?
I keep a notebook of quotations that either make me laugh or make me think, or in some cases both. I am currently browsing through it. And the quotation of the day is:
"There is an element of truth in every idea that lasts long enough to be called corny" ~Irving Berlin
Speaking of corn...why do they call those carbuncles you get on your toes corns? I mean where is the corn's ears. Why can't we eat toe-corns?Would we want to eat toe corns? Cream of toe corn soup!
I never said I was completely sane. After all if you have a great imagination you can come up with some pretty far out there ideas. I mean I wrote an article once about farts in outer space. I just wanted to make people laugh,and I did. Might be a little a gross to some, but seriously the way the world
is we need more laughter...and love...
I sometimes get "annoyed" with my mother if she doesn't laugh at my jokes. I put annoyed in quotation marks because I am not really mad. I just like to hear people, especially mom laugh, at my jokes. Nine out of ten times mom does laugh.
I may put some of those surveys from Facebook on here. Sometimes I answer them truthfully. Sometimes I answer them with weird and out there answers. Sometimes I mix it up a bit leaving my friends, family, and colleagues thinking what the heck was she thinking? Is she really a nutter?
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