I finally consummated my relationship with my computer. For three years, it had been a reasonably chaste affair. All that saucy talk and no play. But on Monday, me and my computer began to grind. By Tuesday I was pregnant. Spat out a cd in the wee small hours. A real-live spinnin' speakin' spoken word cd. All by myself. Just me and my computer. We made that. No doctor, no midwife, no coach, no lamaze, no technical help people, no real recording equipment. Just me and my computer getting down and dirty under the eye of a lustful moon. Oh the babies we made! Sextuplets! Half a dozen. All raw and squalling, scratchy-throated, and fussy. But mine. I keep hopping from track to track like counting miniature fingers and toes over and over and over again. And every time I count them, the number is the same (thank god!). It's just cooing and I'm cooing back. It's got my laugh. And something like twentysix tracks of ideas it picked up form me. All of my annoying habits suddenly become almost endearing when this other creature performs them. Maybe I only feel that way because I'm the mama. I don't care. That's perfectly fine with me.

I had the darndest time deciding on a name. I had it narrowed down to four choices, then down to two and I gave up. After all, why can't a cd have two names? So, it's first name is: Address Yourself Only As Beautiful, which is a line from this poem. The second name (middle name? surname?) is Poems in the Raw, because that really describes it's state of being, the state of being that it was conceived in and delivered in. Just a chick and her computer and her little computer microphone. Talk about immaculate conception. Then again, I'm sure every mama kinda thinks her kid's the next messiah... Maybe it's just me...