Life Haiku

About two years ago Unseen Forces began divesting me of my material possessions and after the initial shock and the knee-jerk reaction to being materially denuded, I felt a natural freedom, a huge sigh of relief.

Life Haiku.

For example:

(Okay, Haiku is relative, so just keep in mind that I'm up to 70% reduced in some areas, I'll try to give a running estimation)

Wardrobe:

Running shoes/trainers x 1

Converse:

Chuck Taylors x 1

One Star Sequined loafers x 1

One Star slip-ons x 1

Boots x 3 (none of them practical for extreme winter weather, but they all rock and the black high heeled ones are really comfortable, I mean walk all day in them comfortable)

Heels x 8 (3 black, 2 brown, 1 pewter metalic, 1 ballet pink, 1 purple T-straps,)

Berks, gladiators, flipflops, peep toed sandles x 1 each

Blahnik mules x 1

Flats: 1 black, 1 aubergine

Loafers: are you kidding me? Okay, I have one pair of Todd's that I borrowed from my Mom

OK, shoes still need some work, but there are a total of twenty-something items of footwear in my closet; compared to the average woman of today we can safely say that in the foot wear department I am haiku-like.

Instead of listing items I'll just give linear measurements:

6 feet of rack space, ie, one double sized closet, and that is summer AND winter clothes and outer wear.

Drawers: 24 feet of loosely loaded drawers or two 5 drawer chests of drawers: T-shirts, sweaters, socks, underwear, sports wear, accessories, including handbags and 4 jaunty hats.

Books: 5 book boxes of beloved reads, including The Oxford Concise Dictionary of The English Language

Decorative: 5 boxes, including photos of friends and family and a 1930's small Italian chandelier

Art Collection: 1 painting, 5 prints, about 10 sculptures of various sizes, 5 drawings.

Office/Desk/Tax Returns: 2 orderly book boxes

Furniture: 1 full Tempurpedic mattress, bed and headboard, pair of bergere chaises with foot rest 1 antique side table and a mid-century console and lamp of the same vintage.

Electrical: video camera, digital camera, laptop, wireless microphone

Kitchen: set of All-Clad pots and pans, 2 Henkles knives and 2 boxes of assorted other kitcheny stuff.

Ummmm, that's it really.

Excluding the furniture, all of my worldly possessions* fit in 2 Suburban loads, and the rest can follow in a flatbed with the tailgate down.

*There are a few lingering items in London

Oh, and make-up, if you are a woman then you will really appreciate this:

Everything, everything, make-up brushes, hair-dryer, brushes combs, creams, band-aids, toothpaste, etc all in one box. One box, and not a big box, but a regular book box sized box. I got rid of all shades of red lipstick: there is not one shade of red that does not make me look older and I accept that there never will be. I now have 3 Mac Viva Glam lip glosses, one Viva Glam lipstick and one Rimmel lip pencil and Bert's Bees chap stick for home, office and handbag. Now that is Haiku in the lip department, just ask any lady.

Apart from the clothes and a few desk items it is all packed up an ready to go. I'm ready. Other loose ends are being tied up as I write. Or after I write.

I thought that was going to be funny, but it's not. It's not sad either. It just is interesting for me to see what I have, what I don't have, what I miss and what I don't miss.

Of one thing I am certain, I don't miss the dread of moving.

Life Haiku, by Lisa Prior

two Suburban loads

a bed, chairs, Viva the Glam

London lingering

more Haiku here at the Haiku Generator

http://www.everypoet.com/haiku/default.htm

For expert decluttering visit my friend Annie:

http://drdeclutterservices.com/Site/Welcome.html

The Will to Blog

When I have work I blog. When I don't I don't. I just, you know, don't.

Untitled Sadness

That's the statue behind the ICA, in between The Mall and Pall Mall in London. It commorates the Crimean War. There are British and Cossak soldiers and a plaque that does not say "This statue sponsored by Big Corporation."

.

I miss London. I miss my friends. I miss the weather. I miss the culture. I miss the dry humor. I miss the public transportation. I miss the tea. I miss interacting with strangers on busses, sidewalks, I miss sidewalks. Can you imagine that sidewalks. I miss walking for that matter. I miss the intelligence. I miss people who could give a fuck about granite countertops.

I miss public places  that are actually used by the public. I miss parks that have tea rooms and walking paths and lovely gardens. 

Come on Justin, Crimea River.

Poor me. Crimea River

I hate it when...

I hate it when I have a really great idea and then I misplace it like sunglasses or car keys.

For example, I was heading down the I-35 at 70 m.p.h. to Sulphur, Oklahoma for my weekend yoga retreat when I finally punctured through one of the last remaining blocks on my comedy pilot. As I recall it was a brilliant piece of physical theater that neatly tied in with something in the cold opening. And because of its unarguable brilliance there was no need to write it down. No need, whatsoever. Especially not doing 70 miles per hour in rural Oklahoma, at dusk. I mean if I had had a wreck I would have found myself in a Stephen King novel, and who wants that, especially when you can have a yoga weekend instead? Comedy pilots don't get finished in Stephen King novels, in fact comedy in all its resplendent forms is banned in Stephen King novels. So if a purveyor of fine humor is found trespassing, even by (car) accident in a Stephen King novel the consequences are quite severe. And that's an understatement. Let's just say that Kathy Bates and her sledgehammer is just a warm up. Caan gets off lightly. Seriously, If Jack is all play and no work, where's the story in that? Shelly Duval shivering in a meat locker with a knife makes perfect sense because, a.) meat lockers are cold, and b.) you need a knife to hack off a shoulder of mutton. It's just not scarry, unless you are a vegan. But then you would react with outrage, not fear. You would sublimate all that white middle-class guilt that made you want to be a vegan in the first place into organizing a grassroots campaign. And you would drive to the protest that you and your college buddies organized in the Honda Civic Hybrid that your parents are making payments on, wearing the Simple Shoes your grandma bought you at the mall last summer. And there's just no story in that. None.

The Temp

Well, I'm temping so I thought I would use this time wisely to update my blog. Seriously. I keep asking my superiors what to do next b/c anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am a bit of a whirling Dervish. I'm still working on the kindergarten basics of "sit still, keep your mouth shut and get your hands out of you panties." Add to that that I am a bit paranoid at times so when I am "not looking busy" I feel guilty and instead of guilt it looks like nervousness. This has its upside, though. I tend to achieve a lot, although I often head into that dark place known as burnout.

So my blog has been really lame recently. Apologies to all 8 of my regular readers. I had to resort to cutting and pasting emails from my friend Lee who provided all of the interesting content. He is much smarter-er than I. BUT! I am smart enough to get him. In fact my sitcom is based on our friendship, or was in its first version, but now with the re-write for the US version he has been written into a corner, sort of. Withall, he is my muse, which does not sound right as he is a bloke, so he is my man-muse.

I'm in full throttle on the final draft of my sitcom pilot, working title: Hotpants which means early AM wake ups (between 3-5am) to write before going to work at 8. My deadline (the deadline is for me) is 28 November which is also my birthday where I will be # years old. (My God it's come to that, I'm # years old and I don't want to tell you and I don't want to lie, although anyone who is reading this probably knows that I am # years old.) It is my present to me. And, my mentor will introducing me to "her people" in the new year. So I have to start working on my spec script right after that. I'm deadlining a beatsheet for the first of the year. Hands full.

Today was a 3AM day, which would not be too bad, except that I stayed up way late packing to go away for the weekend. I am overtired and headed for burnout which is good as I am going on a yoga retreat. This is in part to rest and relax and also to practice the many yoga, raw food, Esselen, Hoffman & etc. weekends that I will no doubt be doing when I am hired to write on big TV comedies. Just another example of what an over achiever I am, I'm practicing resting and relaxing. I plan to be a really good at this when I get that job.

And on that note

iDork 8.0

Me to Lee:

I am listening to Earth Song again and secretly liking it even though I know I shouldn't (esp. with lyrics like "what about flowery fields?"

I can see the wind machine going and the fake fog, but no zombies. This is not Thriller, after all. I see little children in my minds eye (and my recollection of the Brits)

But now he is going "hoo" and then I think of that comedian...cant' remember...wotsit with ginger mane? Does that make me less of a dork if I imagine ginger guy with the wind machine???

Anyhow, I hate my life.

xlisa

Lee to Me:

maybe you would hate your life less if you weren't listening to earth song so much?

we had dire straights on in the shop today. so however much you hate your life, at least you're not me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

f.f.s.

Me:

I blogged you...with love

xlisa

Lee:

i'm never sayin "heh" to you again. paul anka? f.f.s. dead to me

x

Me:

o...kay

ffs? I don't know what this means.

I love imagining hearing you say "heh" what would it take lee, what would it take?

Paul Anka album, Rock Swings

he basically takes grunge songs and makes them into snappy little swing numbers, cf, Smells like TS, and Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun.

Sort of takes the wind out of their self-important, heroin addled sails. Kinda makes me say "heh" when I hear them.

On youtube with everything else.

Lee:

heh.

f.f.s. = for fuck's sake :0

i know that paul anka record backwards  - it was playlisted in borders when i first started there, and was played on constant rotation alongside - and i'm not even shitting you - jamie cullum, alicia keyes, katie melua and david gray - for two weeks solid: tow of the worst weeks of my life. my neurons stopped firing, i couldn't pick things up.

xxx

Me:

Can I lift that line for my script, the not picking things up thing? I'm having a bit of writer's block. It's like funny has gone on a cruise to Cancun with a bunch of geriatric jews wearing orthopaedic footwear and high blood pressure med. (taking the meds, not wearing, that is)

Or at least will you keep corresponding with me so I can do this lazy blogging thing. I have no content at the moment.

ffs, I'm desperate.

xx

PS: thanks for saying "heh" again