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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
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Archive for the ‘Lady’ Category
Tuesday, July 27th, 2021

Lady used to call herself the Plant Kevorkian cuz she killed any green she touched, which is odd since Green is one of her maiden surnames.
But since we moved into this 140 yr-old house with a bit of backland, she’s taken up gardening and landscaping. She’s begun slate paths, built a brick patio for our beehive, dug a small fishpool, is bricking the firepit area, and is growing all kinds of plants, flowers, fruits, and veggies.
This is our first winter-spring-summer here, and she’s already transformed the place. Who knows what next spring will bring.













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Saturday, July 24th, 2021
Rhythm a.m.
The snake flick of the lighter’s tongue
its reflection in the window
firey eyes glint
Husband cups warm orange light
in the cradle of his hand and pipe
all the wrinkles of his wisdom
squint to suck a flame
He ahems some coughs
lights the pipe again
Dog raises head
Husband consults the clock
flicks another glint
rocks forward
says alrighty
time to walk the dog
He blows his nose
The dog skittles his nails
on the Tylenol groan of
foyer floor
The door slams like
the thump of a book
Bells rattle
Windows shake
Now it’s just my invisible
silent breath and the tick tick
of the clock’s swinging pendulum
They’re on their walk
and I am alone
waiting
– Lady 7.24.2021
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Monday, July 12th, 2021
x
Lady started doing comix during our 2006-9 living outside the U.S.
Here’s the 3rd of her 4 comics, titled How We Hooked Up. Could be from southern France 2007 or Mexico 2007-9… post 4th comic tomorrow.
This one begins “When I first heard Smith I thought he was one sick fuck. His poems were filthy. But admirable. He came to readings wearing 20 year old enigmatic t-shirts and black jeans and reeking of marijuana. He looked like an extra for Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.”
So she can’t say she didn’t know what she was getting into when we hooked up 16 years ago.
Click on link to read comic; the link for succeeding pages at bottom of each page.
http://agentofchaos.com/comix/howwehookedup.php

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Sunday, July 11th, 2021
Doing chores this rainy Sunday… I’m washing the bed sheets, cleaning up the kitchen dishes, charging the batteries and our doorbell – while Lady is out in the garage trying to organize the chaos from our October move… bit of gender reversal here.
3rd foto is one of her collages — The Smithsonian Experience
2nd is with her rescue golden labrador Marlowe
1st foto I can’t remember

 
x
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Sunday, July 11th, 2021
THESE 3 fotos are parts of the comic pages… click on link to read comic

Lady started doing comix during our 2006-9 living outside the U.S.
Here’s 2 of 4, from when we lived in southern France for 2 months in 2007… post the next 2 one-a-day.
THESE 3 fotos are parts of the comic pages… click on link to read comic
http://agentofchaos.com/comix/smithvslizards.php


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Friday, June 18th, 2021

For $40, you can feed a raccoon 4 fish.
We bought a 141 yr-old house, overlooking the Cleveland Zoo, with a large, irregular backyard bigger than the house.
Lady decided to landscape. Started buying used brick and slate. Began a snaking brick-lined slate path, added a brick patio for the beehive, then dug a fishpool and ordered a lining and fountain.
Once the pool was working, she bought 2 small grey koi and 2 large goldfish (orange & white, black & silver). For two days they hid. Third day one started swimming about mid-depth. Fourth day it was near the top. Fifth day 3 fish gone and 4th dead, with the plastic pond lilies they hid beneath torn to shreds and tossed about.
We figure only answer is one of the raccoons, because the two groundhogs, the hosta-eating young buck, the skunk, and the mangy coyote lack the paw hands to pick up one styrofoam lily and tear it apart and pick up the other and toss it 6 foot away.
Fortunately the pool still resonates because the water fountain sound soothes sitting by it, and groups of birds fly down to sip and bathe… and our bees drink from it.
I love life — trees, plant life, fish, birds, animals (people not so much) — and don’t mind helping out, but $40 for one raccoon’s meal is a bit steep.
And oh, my Lady!
Once she was so sweet and innocent, wished violence on nothing and no one. Now she’s thinking dark thoughts about the deer, groundhogs, skunk, and raccoon. Her slide to darkness began when the Cheeto-colored-small-hands-man snuck into the White House and upped his soiling of our culture… it continued when the groundhogs ate her sunflower sprouts, the buck ate her hostas, the skunk doused her rescue dog, and the raccoon ate her fish.
She’s even giving me the wife-eye as I sit here and chuckle.
And on the animal upside, last night I heard a zoo elephant trumpet thrice.




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Sunday, February 14th, 2021

(cut & pasted from Lady’s FB status)
Evening rum coke warms my whimsy. Always hard to get myself out into the evening cold, it being under 30 degrees, to take Marlowe out. If it weren’t for him… would I even know that the neighborhood has the flavor of Lewisham in London… we round the corner from our own Friendly Street onto a two story cityfront avenue, Pearl Road.
I tell Marlowe that the secret to fried chicken dinner we had tonight is the buttermilk. “You’re a happy dog,” I tell him. “It’s been a good day.” My mind all the while sings “One little two little three little ‘Rena, O… the Macarena.”
I tell us, “OK, up to the Jamaican place, then we’ll turn around.” He turns to me and takes calm note with his paces. When we pass the Jamaican place I’m motivated with enough momenthood to go as far as the next block to the dog groomer for some intense sniffing of brick and snow and corner of building.
Then the church yard next to the groomer, which is riddled with poo. “You can hang around,” I tell Marlowe, “I don’t mind, but don’t drag me in.” By this time I’m willing to take Marlowe double our usual distance, the rum having fully kicked in.
“Beautiful dog,” they all say as I hold him close to me so as not to startle anyone on the sidewalk home. I wonder if he is particularly beautiful – maybe impressive because of his sheer bulk, 130 lbs.
When we get in, it’s “Bony, moany, two-time Maroni,” and I offer him the choice of either a boney-woney or a chewey-woowie. He thinks about it and takes the rawhide with a gentlemanly click. I give him the milkbone, too.
– by Lady 2.14.2021

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