About laughingnewborn

fine art and craft, creative writing, utopic social engineering, mysticism and magic.

Featuring @ The Dude’s Poet Society

I will be a featured reader this weekend at the Dude’s Poet Society, a new literary performance event at The Big Legrowski at 812 NW Couch St. in downtown Portland, Oregon.

From our event hosts:

“The Dude’s Poet Society”, a weekly spoken word (No musical instruments, there are rules!) open mic. Hosted by Amanda Helstrom-White, Curtis Whitecarroll, or Doug Spangle. Sign up starts at 7, show starts at 7:15. Every week will be 12 open mic slots and a feature reader.”

Come on out and support a new spoken word event by some high quality local writers!

My take on the Hugo Awards 2015

…I don’t care. In fact, I have chosen to remain blissfully ignorant of all but the most general scope of information about all of the drama and controversy surrounding the Hugo Awards this year.

This is not, however, because I don’t care about the fate of the SF genre or the future of the publishing industry. Much to the contrary.

It’s because the Hugo Awards as a standard of excellence has just been exposed (as have too many other institutions and standards in today’s ever more postmodern and fractious world) as a rigged game, one that has apparently been driven by a variety of special interest groups, based on whatever the fashion or whims of the people involved were at the time. Which gives the Hugos about as much significance as a gold star on your score card.

We can at least be somewhat relieved that the Hugos are not the stamp of approval for more serious endeavors– world political leader, let’s say. That doesn’t mean they don’t still set the tone for what the focus will be for the generation and distribution of SF content. It’s like asking all the design houses in New York to just go ahead and ignore Fashion Week or what Pantene colors will be “hip” this year.

As far as I’m concerned, it still matters, a lot, since that content has a much broader scope than it ever did in the past. Since Hollywood, and even some of the more independently focused movie houses, have seemingly given up trying to retain their own writers, and have increasingly been living off the sweat of writers from the SF and other genre fields. It matters because the distribution of the ideas that have been served up by those writers won’t just reach the eyes and ears of a few comic book nerds who want to avoid getting picked on in class by escaping into the latest volume of DC Comics or Interzone. The chosen content, blessed with career success and the potential to have staying power for generations to come, has the potential to reach hundreds of thousands of people. Everyday, average people who are just going about their business, until these new sets of ideas and perspectives come along to change, if ever so subtly, the way they see and do reality.

If you think I’m overreacting here, recall that writers like George Orwell and Isaac Asimov were said to predict future technology many years before it came into being. And their visions of this future technology may have actually shaped what technologies eventually came into being. Technologies we now use every day- such as the Internet, remotely based digital forms of “credit” or currency, Skype and video chatting, domestic robotics, and preliminary forms of artificial intelligence, to name just a few.

H.G. Wells’s ship that went to the moon at the beginning of the 20th century, as he described it, may not have been the eventual design used to create the Moon Lander- but there is no doubt that it captured peoples’ imaginations, and likely served to fuel the desire to eventually create one that actually could leave Earth and transport a human safely to the surface of another sphere.

More recently in the history of the world, who remembers- as I do- growing up watching the crew of Star Trek play with their little handheld tricorders and thinking to themselves, I so want to get my hands on one of those? Fast forward to 2015- we now have smart phones that have more storage space in one tiny chip than the entire contents of desktop computers from only a few years ago: tiny handheld devices that can monitor your heart rate, level of physical arousal, rate of motion, and body temperature; sense motion in your environment, bring you real time information from anywhere in the world instantaneously- it’s a device the young William Shatner would have dropped his jaw to have seen. All that power, so easy to acquire, that now we give these devices to our children. And the rate at which these powerful ideas and creations are now coming into being is accelerating at a dizzying pace.

And, to go a step further- think about Scientology, and the fact that the founder of this belief system is also a widely published and successful SF author. Think about Ayn Rand. Think about Heinlein. Think about… GASP!… Robert Anton Wilson, for Jerry’s sake. There is no denying the sort of real impact their ideas, words and publications have made on our world, for better or worse.

Not to mention- and yes, I know I am a complete smarty-pants for mentioning it- but some of the technology we have been delivered has now also started to shape not only how we consume media, data and discourse… It has also started to shape the very nature of interactions we are having with one another as people. And that, in probably not just one instance, became sorely evident during the Sad Puppies/Hugo/Publishing fracas that we have just witnessed.

Lines between personal and professional have become blurred. People said and did things that confounded, for a time, questions of whether they had or had not acted with impropriety. We are surrounded, every day, with the New and we keep on acting as though it’s perfectly normal and everyone knows what they’re doing… Even as we encounter situations between individuals and groups that have never happened before, driven by software apps that are made in some completely removed location, inaccessible to the average end user, and continually changing even as we speak.

Now, any of you who have been following the current Hugo discussions will probably expect me to break down into a partisanship rant right about here, but I’m afraid you will be disappointed. Like I said at the beginning of this article, I really don’t care. Those who wish to gossip and argue about who was more right or wrong about who said what or what conduct was engaged in by what person or group of people… All y’all are missing the freakin’ point. Getting caught up in us vs. them rhetoric and getting all butt hurt about partisan issues just makes everyone involved out to look foolish, I’m sorry, but it’s true. Also, I am not going to mention what my personal beliefs are, because frankly they ain’t none of your biznass unless I choose to share them with you. If you are that interested in where I’m coming from, I’m happy to direct you to look at my author bio and read some of my other work on this site.

When I grew up reading my own copies of Fantasy & Science Fiction and Asimov’s, first smuggled in with the groceries by an indulgent father, later magazines I spent my allowance money to subscribe to, I did not know anything about the literary industry and how it worked. I wasn’t aware of where any of the ideas, tropes or discussions in the science fiction field might have come from. All I knew was that I was just another girl stuck in the suburbs, a place so quiet at night you could hear a pin drop, searching for her own life and her own dreams, searching for something beyond a limiting four walls, hungry with the need to seek, to explore, to learn about the important things in life, to know.

Nothing in my home town, nor in the mind numbingly regurgitated, lifeless and hopelessly small minded school teachings I was forced to deal with provided me with the answers or ideas I sought after. Creativity, observation, learning to think for myself, asking real questions, engaging in discourse about what it is to be a human being on this planet, and to wonder why and how and what if were the things that really helped. Those things allowed me to imagine becoming and going after more than anything my immediate reality had in store for me (something, I recall, about allowing my mother to find me a “nice husband” with a rich family, with whom I could produce lots of grandkids. Clearly she did not know to what creature she had given birth…!)

I drank up everything I could find in the SF genre (back in my day it was originally shelved in separate areas of “Fantasy” and “Science Fiction” at my local library) that appealed to me. Golden Age potboilers, fantasy, horror, hard SF, poetry, comics, essays, historical fiction, cyberpunk, magical realism, Real Magic, I welcomed them all, and more. I created my own learning and lines of inquiry. I was given a sort of psychological passport to feel free to explore worlds, ideas, concepts and writings that might not have otherwise ever occurred to me. I read well beyond my grade level, my age and experience. I developed an affinity for how certain authors wrote about science, mythology, philosophy, religion, and history that taught me about subjects, concepts and experiences well beyond my race, class, upbringing, sex or the supposed areas of interest others expected me to have. And I loved every minute of it. That early enrichment helped me retain a spirit of curiosity, inquiry and openness to new experience that have stayed with me to this day. Those traits, and the application of them, have further brought me a sense of genuine self-confidence, valuable skills in creative problem-solving, and eventually led me to pursue (despite discouragement from a number of sources) and successfully complete a professional degree- making me the first to gain a Masters in my branch of the family. It has helped me learn the importance of truly understanding how science works- and doesn’t- and how one cannot leave out ethical considerations when attempting, by whatever method is being used, to explore and fool around with the workings of our Universe and all of the beings and elements inhabiting it.

And those benefits I have gained from including SF in my life, are among the same benefits we will be passing along to new generations of readers to come. Some of those ideas may just help shape a new reality we cannot even yet conceive of.

The Hugos are rendered irrelevant to me, now, because I in my naiveté, I had assumed that the stories nominated and awarded had been picked based on their merit as stories. On an exceptionally good or remarkable quality of writing. On originality of ideas. On the basis of good literature– because as any fanfic fan who has read more than ten things knows, the quality of the story is based on how well you can TELL A DANG STORY, not the number of hottie brand name characters, or fashionable-all-over-for-a-minute concepts, you can stuff into one tale.

But, it turns out, I was wrong. Seemingly the Hugo Awards are simply a hyperinflated extension of how the literary field in general operates. I’m not trying to be cynical or critical of any individual people or orgnaizations here… honestly… I’m just really, really disappointed. I just felt the feet and they are definitely clay-like in substance.

I’m disappointed that the industry that so fascinated me as a young woman could, itself, be so addled and wary about the very diversity of ideas, sense of adventure and exploration, and asking of honest (sometimes uncomfortable) questions that are contained in some of its authors’ best works.

I’m disappointed that a field that purports to be about the methodology and values of scientific inquiry could be so petty as to fall victim to personal, partisan squabbles. Aren’t we intelligent, well educated, at least obstreperous enough to go beyond such struggles? Even in the name of Science? Even in the name of quality writing?

What good does it hold for us to live in a world where our children and grandchildren will have access to the most powerful platforms for accessing data and wielding personal influence in the history of the human race- if all they can do with it is continue, more and more, to broadcast the most trivial, divisive, emotionally stunted, and downright lobotomized excuses for media content and thinking/discourse about real issues in the world? We already have seventh graders that can tell you the difference between hundreds of different songs, movie actors or brand name products, but who couldn’t even tell you the difference between one broad leafed tree and another, even if you held a gun to their head. Devo is a real thing, folks, and it’s coming for us, right now. Something has to be done.

I am essentially a nobody on the publishing “scene”. I am just a girl, now a woman, who likes to think, question, and dream, and sometimes write poetry and short stories, among other things. Sometimes I share them. I have a few friends, I know a few people, I may or may not ever get the chance to be awarded anything. Maybe that gives me a freedom, in a way, to say what I really think.

Despite how the publishing industry for science fiction and fantasy chooses to move forward with things, I am going to retain that right to say what I really think, and to continue exploring, learning and reading for myself. I will encourage others to do the same and attempt where I can to instill that love of learning, curiosity, exploration and independence in others.

Because even if you don’t agree with me, you can’t deny that the world today is going to need people who can break existing molds and adapt to a new and ever more challenging future. We are going to need the dreamers, inventors and writers of SF to help us understand, to be a guide, to challenge our thinking, to imagine being something or someone we’ve never imagined before, to investigate that relationship with the “other” and what impact that may have, to ask “what if” and “what’s next”, to predict, to express, to hold up a mirror, to poke fun, to have a rollicking good time, to consider how and when it is appropriate to take a stand, and to consider what, ultimately, as seven billion humans all living on a very very small planet together, it might be worth taking a stand for.

I just hope we have a chance to help shape that future in a way that brings us what we value the most as humans having this collective experience together. Because if we don’t, something or someone else is going to.

And the possibility of what that someone or something else might be… in a world without worthwhile SF… Is not a fate I’m comfortable with imagining.


My reading from New Poet Challenge!

I was graciously gifted a video recording of my performance at the New Poet Challenge #5 show at Pairings this past week. Enjoy!

(note: The very beginning of the first poem, “Letter To Myself (a Poem for Grief)”, was not captured in the video. But you can read the full text version of pieces I am reading here and here.

Pairings July 2015

New Poet Challenge July 14!

Hey all, I will be one of the guest poets at the New Poet Challenge event at Pairings wine establishment, July 14 (this coming Tuesday evening). It runs from 6-8pm or thereabouts and is a free event. Also, delicious and reasonably priced wine!

I’ve invited Alex Platanias and Geino Aötsch as my new poets. Neither of them have read at a formal poetry event before (to my knowledge), but I know they and all of the other invited readers will be well worth the listen.

Help spread the word so we can give them a full house audience. Event link on FB:


Big 500 Show-ready to go!

My five panels for the Big 500 Show are done and turned in!






The series is called, “Topography of memory”. Each panel was gessoed and painted with an acrylic ground, then matched with a segment of patchwork fabric. The patchwork was created years ago, when I was a newly young woman, from a variety of velvets, silks and satins in our family’s  collection of scraps and repurposed fabric items. One panel has an embroidery I  had worked as a child; others have scraps left from sewing birthday and summer dresses, ribbons from giftwrappings and doll clothes, and so on. In this way, it carries old and long cast aside associations, since recovered and reworked: a kind of memory quilt.

Since I had had much creative enthusiasm, but little knowledge of how to properly construct patchwork, the original fabric soon fell apart. I was saddened to see a once gorgeously festive skirt become shredded, the fabric tearing beyond repair and breaking down, after only one or two parties and subsequent washings. Yet it was still too meaningful, and captivating, to throw away.

I brought the former skirt back out of hiding, quite serendipitously, in a hunt for scraps to use for Christmas  ornaments. The ornaments didn’t get made (yet), but when I  saw the skirt again, the panel series idea was born.

Each piece has been overlaid with a design derived from principles of sacred geometry. They were carefully traced on to translucent paper with gold and silver paint pens. Beads, rhinestones and sequins enhance the points of the designs, and bring out the eye catching sparkle in the materials. The overall effect is contemporary in style, yet mysterious, hinting at antique, even ancient and possibly occult references. I think they are awesome and magical, especially viewed all together.

I didn’t  concentrate too hard on the meanings or pairings behind the shapes and designs, preferring to let my hands, eyes, artistic experience and psyche be my guide in assembling these pieces. The result is an exploration of layered, intermingling themes: the healing force of the sacred lattices in transforming previous life experiences, forgotten hopes and dreams, or past grief and loss; the interplay of order and confusion in navigating one’s memories, and the need for guidance through waters that are, at times, seductive and treacherous; the mapping of the known and its ever changing relationship in response to the new and unknown; the impact of that which might seem merely decorative or passive, but which works on the viewer in aspects not easily explained away… I could go on, but I’ll leave room for your own interpretation.

I do heartily suggest checking out the show, and viewing these pieces in person- online photos can’t get even close to doing them justice.

And don’t worry! I’m happy to see these sweethearts sell and, hopefully, bring some holiday joy and inspiration to a gift recipient. I have plenty more patchwork- and fond memories- where these came from. Repurposing, in this case, will bring vibrant new life to these special fragments of time.

LitHop #2

Been slammed lately with BIG LIFE & ETC stuff, so I haven’t had much chance to do much reading or socializing, let alone writing. But I couldn’t pass up a chance to visit LitHop #2, this installment hosted on several different venues on Alberta Street. I got a chance to see three readers from Eraserhead Press: Kirsten Alene, with a tale involving intricately disturbing sushi; Vince Kramer, with an entertaining excerpt from “Death Machines of Death”, and Jeff Burk, with a tentacle rape porn short that takes some rather unexpected-and humanizing-turns.
Also, I have to put in a plug for Via Chicago, who along with Bunk Sandwiches, selflessly allowed these literary hoodlums to use their patio for such decadent Western transgressions. It is a pizza place that not only serves Truly Authentic Chicago Deep Dish Pizza, but also GLUTEN FREE SLICES! I was in pepperoni heaven tonight. For those of you who know me, you know how big of a deal this is. Rock on, Lit Hop… Maybe next time I will be able to check out, oh, the whole rest of the event. For now- deeply appreciating one part of it really hit the spot.


They say,

“necessity is the mother of invention”,

But I think necessity got
a bad rap-

See, viewed through the eyes of
those who invent,

We have come to experience necessity as a
cold mother,

Skin drawn tight around
stern brows,

gaunt face, shouting an inch away from yours

the old hag, so demanding…

But the cleanly ordered, infinitely predictable, mechanistic universe
of inventors,

has forgotten the times when

was a powerful urge, emananting from deep within
growing steadily
until a shout of joy burst forth!

When necessity was
that we all rise above

and experience, and cause one another to experience,
the greatest potential

Of art, of imagination, of love, of solidarity

of understanding

Because each and every one of us,
vessels of the Soul

are mothers of something

All you have to do
is close your eyes,

and remember…

(c) SBA 5/11/2014

Buzzpoems Reading Today

I have been invited by my friend, Curtis B Whitecarroll, to read a couple of short poems at the Buzzpoems reading for Xray.fm. Starts this evening at 5pm, at the Glyph Cafe & Arts Space, 804 NW Couch St., in Portland, OR. There will be 50 poets, each one reading two poems that last less than a minute each. They will subsequently be used in between Xray’s programming. I’m number 39, so I don’t know how far in to our session that will be, but I have no doubt that all the poets reading today will be worth hearing!

Southeast Madrigal

Cycling thru streets
Dusted pink with
clouds of Spring, just before

The thundershower
I find a moments’ peace

A tiny interloper,
Folding naive bee winglets against
The coming storm

Rides at my elbow, a brief jaunt
To an uncharted neighborhood
Exotic spills of blossoms
Tumbling over mossy walls

The scent of fresh pollen, heady
and intoxicating

Or perhaps,
This was my spirit guide through
This early passage
Down a sleepy back lane of Faerie?

With such live, sunlit green panoply
Reaching out, trembling against
A curtain wall of
Charcoal smudge sky,

Why, one could linger for but a moment,
And years might pass, back in our

Consensual Reality…

Best to keep moving, feet tirelessly propelling onward

For an unspecified amount of afternoon,
I made it to the top of the hill okay.

When I looked down,
My sleeve was empty

(c) SBA 4/2014