Not a poetry blog: Poets & Artists, with a variety of boobs

I didn't give out one piece of Halloween candy tonight, so consider this my treat to you...

The new issue of one of the sleekest, most professional-looking literary journals, Poets and Artists, is fresh off the press/ on the intertubes... with one of my poems in it!

If you want to read my piece, "Skepticism of everything," go here. As I've mentioned before, this is not a poetry blog and I don't want to post every single publication, but I think you'll especially like this issue. In addition to all the gorgeous work, there's these interviews and mini-interviews with each artist.

Each piece deals in some way with the body, so in between reading poems, you'll get to see lots of naked people. What's not to love?

I especially enjoy Franciene Krieg's naked old lady nudes, which I'm surprised to find so refreshing and comforting. Ken Scaglia's paintings of car engines will make you feel like you're peeking at something you really shouldn't be. Plus there's Deborah Poynton's "Nude Dude With Artsy Junk + A Whole Lotta Other Naked Folks Hanging Out." (Ok, ok, so the official title is "To Be Alone," but that doesn't really paint a picture for you the way I wanted.)  To see all those things and more, go here.

Transcript: actual conversation from the K & G house

OR: why you should never, ever try to tell me something important by opening with "Guess what."




Husband: Guess what?

Answer: Chicken butt. 

Husband: Guess why? 

Answer: Chicken pie. 

Husband: Guess how? 

Answer: CHICKEN COW. 

Old school grits

The older I get, the more interested I am in "boring" stuff like bird watching and ancient agricultural equipment. (Dear god please let me not turn into a stamp collector!)

This past weekend we were here, in the Great Smoky National Park, which, if you're breathing, you will agree is utterly not-boring:

True story. 

And in the GSNP there's this old restored grain mill called the Mingus* Mill. Not only is it gorgeous, but at 124 years old, it's grinding like a hot young 20 something.

I expect our souvenirs will yield such delicious cornbread and cookies
as to produce mouth watering in the style of this flume.  

Ok, I accept that y'all might not find the existence of this old mill as thrilling as I do, for whatever weird reason...

Nevertheless, when you think about the factory farms that produce your food and the abundance of dangers and health risks associated with them... well, don't you just wish everything you ate was made in such a non-corporate, simple, and honest way? 

Yes you do. 

*Of course the mill-visiting soundtrack was my sometimes on key rendition of "Haitian Fight Song" and "Mood Indigo."

Fun with the intertubes

Do you have 8,000 papers to grade and/or TPS reports to fill out? I thought so.

That's why you should go here and learn Japanese play around with vintage-ifying your pictures.

Thoroughly Modern Kittie

Handsome retro heartbreaker

Kid tested, Carolina approved

When the Broken Bells album first came out I thought, "Well, this passes, I guess" and then I didn't listen to it for a month or so. But then I gave it another chance and loved it. And now I listen to it a lot. And I'm still not so sure what it is about the first impression that didn't work for me, but do find it pretty fascinating how wrong my first impression was. (Perhaps, subconsciously I just expected that it wouldn't really work for me, like many of my favorite musicians' most recent albums?)

Anyway, there's these Broken Bells videos where they get kids to vote on their songs. I want you to watch one, and then think about the fact that: 1) "a bit dark" should totally be points in favor of passing with flying colors! (Sorry cute British kid, but you got it all wrong.), and 2) tunes aside, Brian (Mr. Mouse) and James get bonus points for being so well dressed and appreciating the importance of snacks! 

Check it out: 

Oh, and if you haven't seen this one yet, I thought I'd throw it in for good measure. If you have a crush on good music and Christina Hendricks, get ready to wet your pants:

Mad Men: the tourist sauce (spoiler free)

Have you ever heard the Two Sauce Theory about certain supposedly delicious Italian restaurants in NYC's Little Italy? You know, one sauce is the jar of store bought Ragu Chunky Style they serve to kids  and tourists, and the other sauce is what they serve to customers they respect. They get the real thing--that lovingly simmered family recipe marinara for which the restaurant is renowned.

I am not what you might call a Mad Men tourist. I pay attention and think about the show. I love discussing each episode and making predictions for the next, and every Monday I look forward to checking out what The Slate folks think. 

My point here, Matthew Weiner, is that I have this nagging feeling that you served me the Tourist Ragu version of a Mad Men season finale. Ok, that's fine, you've effed with me. Hah hah. Now, where's the real Mad Men sauce?! 

Getchur bourb on: Woodford

Do y'all know about the Peak End Hypothesis? It's this idea that when you reflect on how good or bad an experience has been, the last few moments of the experience are what primarily shape your attitude about the overall experience. It's why we eat salad first and pecan pie last--because pecan pie kicks salad's ass in deliciousness.

So here, friends, is the dessert of the distillery visits. Even though we visited Woodford first, it was by far our favorite experience. 

I should issue a warning about this post: It's almost like I'm 13 years old and Woodford Reserve is Christian Slater in Pump Up The Volume. Because that, my friends, is just how much OMGI'MINLOVE! gushing is going to happen here. 

Q: What the road to Woodford Reserve like?


A: The awesome pastoral heaven you've always dreamed of!  (I know--you can't believe it, right?)


Here's what I mean:

Spectacular dappled gray horses begging sweetly for apple? Check.

Additional beautiful thoroughbreds on lovely rolling hills? Check. 

Surprise antebellum cemetery? Check.

See what I mean? And this is before you even get there, people! 

Oh, hello, beautiful! 

Isn't Versailles super beautiful? The only thing weirder than how picturesque everything is is hearing Kentuckians say "Welcome to Versales." 

I think that most of bourbon trail tours are free, but Woodford's is $5. It's worth more than all the free ones combined, though. It wasn't crowded like Maker's (although I was perplexed by how many women wore sun dresses and heels to tour a bourbon distillery).

Our tour guide, Earl, was adorable in his earnestness and low-key-ness.  I already knew I liked his style, but when he said,"if you liked the tour, my name's Earl; if you didn't, my name's still Earl" he got bonus points. I also found his sketchers shape-ups sneakers endearing, and the way he pointed out that bourbon balls were unlimited. (Of everything he said, I remember this most clearly.)  

Earl teaching us about grains. Bourbon has to be at least 51% corn. 

The Woodford Reserve grounds, distillery and warehouse are Just! So! Pretty! I mean, even if you don't normally swear you'd be all "Holy $*@@!% That's SO *##$%!^!#@*ng beeeyuuuutiful!" Check out this old school stonework: 

Mostly original stone. Old school, baby. Like, old old school.
 (Does this remind anyone else of Thornfield, Rochester's Estate in Jane Eyre?)

Labrot & Graham est. 1838

This is called the barrel run. I adore it in all its simplicity. You fill up your barrels in the distillery, then roll 'em down the barrel run into the warehouse.

Can I get a "laundry run" system? 

Of course, the real party happens inside, and is quite frothy. 

Wait till you see where the bourbon-to-be goes next-- be still my beating heart! 

Get it?! Be still! STILL! Cause it's a bourbon still..

Pretty, pretty, medieval-looking barrels. 

After they take the little ride down the barrel run, and then hang out in the warehouse for a while, they get taste-tested for doneness. The mahogany-colored sap-looking stuff you see flowing out of some barrels is from barrels that have been tapped for preliminary taste-testing to see if they're bottle-ready.

After the Woodford tour, you go back to the main house where you can eat lunch, buy a drink at the bar, or buy pretty much any Kentucky/ Woodford Reserve/ Horse-themed object you want at the gift shop. You want a personally engraved Woodford bottle? You got it! You want horse shaped cookie cutters? You got it!  Woodford Reserve copper mint julep cups? You got it! (Actually, we did get these. They were $11. The other gift shops had them for $20-$100!) 

Most importantly, after the tour, even though we were still reeling from the the whole gorgeousness of the place and in awe of the bourbon-making craftsmanship, we got this: 

A chocolate bourbon ball and a sample of Woodford with a tasting card. I've had many a Woodford before, but it wasn't until this moment, sipping on the sample in the rocking chair on the Woodford porch, that I really tasted it. The tasting card asked if I could taste vanilla and nut. Why, yes I can! Then, after adding a single small chip of ice, here comes apricot and caramel! IT'S A FLAVOR PARADE! 

Woodford Reserve, you are earnest, good looking, well groomed, you know how to treat a lady, and you come with candy. And in my book that means true googly-eyed love. 

To learn more about my liquid boyfriend, like the fun fact that he received a "medicinal exception" during prohibition, click here.