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Queen Me

Queen  Me

My poetry book has been on sale for a few months. Who buys poetry, right? Not expecting a great return here, but I will say that I loved writing it and am humbled by the publication. Also, if anyone is in the Los Angeles area, please come down to Chevalier Books on April 5th between 2-4 for my very first book signing. I hope it to be the first of many. Sharing myself with the world has always been my thing. First with acting, then teaching, now through the written word. Happy springtime, everyone.

Love Actually … Is All Around

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Some of us love being in love. Some of us love dreaming about love. Some of us want to gouge its eyes out. Whatever the case may be, love is all around us. You just have to look for it. I love the 2003 film, Love Actually. I save it for Christmas usually. But 2014 seems to be a year of rogue behavior, and so I dusted it off and popped it in and yes. I feel that this Christmas flick deserved a Valentine’s Day repeat.  It’s message is clear. Love is all around us, and it is. Everywhere you look. So whether you spent this Valentine’s Day alone or in the arms of your soulmate or somewhere in between remember that the love does not stop on February 14th. Love is in the air, every season and without reason.

Registering Your Work with The Writer’s Guild

Allison Chaney:

I’ve registered a treatment, and it feels good. Sitting on many other things for a moment or two.

Originally posted on Authored by Allison:

According to the  Writer’s Guild of America West , registering your work with them may not take the place of registering it with the Library of Congress – U.S. Copyright Office, but both create  valid legal evidence  that can be used in court. What the service offers is an official time stamp of your work from a neutral (and highly respected) third-party. You can do this in various ways, of course, but if you’ve always wondered about registering your work with the WGA, here’s the skinny:  Registration  is only $20 per project, and you can do it online.  Your submission will be given a unique digital code, and it is recommended that you keep a copy of your exact submission on file. I say save it and then back it up! It’s best you have a copy of precisely what you sent in for you records. After that, you can…

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You

Remember yourselves this weekend as the sun shines upon you or as the wind chills your face. Rekindle the passion you have for life. Paint your pain over with the coolest hues or the most flaming oranges. Be forever young and stay true to the being beating behind your ribs. And as the sainted Valentine flies over our homes, yes, he flies over all of our homes, love yourself. Send a kiss to your soulmate of the future, present or past, then spend time with the most amazing person in your life – YOU.  

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Happy almost Valentine’s Day, everyone. Stay inspired and never give up.

Without My Rainbow (Repost)

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I know. Fool to blink doe-eyed for that charlatan.

I know. But the corn fields and pigs in their pen eat up my nostrils.

I know. My mother, my father kissed knees I can’t remember. Wore smiles and frowns I can never see.

I know. You think you know me.  Dorothy Gale. The dumb farm girl from the bowl of dust.

The dream-hungry fool. The rat-dog loving, rainbow hungry fool.

Who believed in munchkins and good-fairies.

Who crowned herself Queen of an Emerald City.

The one who kept smiling through the ugly forests of wild monkeys.

And melted envy green wickedness with a slosh of a bucket.

But now, I lay without the dream, barn-yarded with people who suffocate me with love

And twisted into a foul reality of

Grain, tornadoes and hallucinogenic straw and olfactory blazing stench.

But now, armed with the power my ruby slippered memory, I can go forth

And I allow on my orphaned feet to sludge through the mud and feed the pigs

Aside

I’m L.A. Woman

I’m L.A. Woman

But I am not your woman

I am not a blonde

I am not your re-invention

I am not a size zero

I am not your lesson or false shaman’s shuffle

I don’t do coke with pancakes and butter

I don’t sleep or hang from your tree to feast your famine

I don’t surf

Or take up war with your instant death

I don’t dance beneath your blood moon

I don’t eat tofu

I don’t revel in death or your nightmare

I don’t giggle and fast and forget every night

I don’t want to die of gangrene on gangily toes

I don’t want a reality TV show

But Hollywood

I push off the covers with no doubt

The stage is mine caramel, curved, at the corner of PCH

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