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very cool, although I’m irked that R.A. (my old boss) got 3 paras.
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“So what’s a better measurement? Good question. Like many good questions, the answer is ‘it depends.'”
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stifled laughing to the point of almost crying. you know, we have been known to call our house “that 70s house”…maybe I should take some of these ideas…. 😉
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bittorrent for mac
sunday scribblings: fortune cookie
Three fortune cookies tossed down onto the bill. Sharp-edged and sloped notations in what he imagined was bad Chinese handwriting, printed over in blue-purple ink with the mathematical tally. Eleanor reached for one first, her long fingers holding it dainty as chopsticks. Michael and Daniel were slower; their fingertips almost touching as they each took the one closest. And then the bill sat alone.
She snapped it open and the bits of cookie fell onto the tablecloth like the shells of a nut. The paper meat of which she smoothed out between her fingers.
A giggle, not really concealed.
Michael, chewing on a segment, raised an eyebrow.
“You will make friends though your winning personality –”
“– in bed,” added Michael, reaching across the table to steal the cookie she’d discarded. He raised his fortune.
“The caring of your friends will make you humble –”
“– in bed.” Now she finished the joke. “Humble? That would certainly be…interesting.”
Michael stuck out his tongue, and then they both looked at Daniel. The fortune cookie still sat whole in the empty spot where his plate had been.
The fortune, when he broke it out, appeared to be hand-written. Something about the lettering jangled in the back of his brain.
“Someday you’ll understand
how much I miss them”
And as he scanned, he recognized Gloria’s handwriting. All the blood drained from his face, and their faces filled with worry.
Eleanor grabbed the tiny slip of paper from between his fingers.
“Oh, that is weird” and Daniel flinched “I’ve never seen a completely blank fortune before.”
Michael took it from her and turned it over and over.
“Not even any lucky numbers.” He set it back in front of Daniel. “Perhaps you can invent your fortune then, or maybe all the numbers are lucky.”
The miniscule scrap of blank white paper, curled up at the edges, reflected the light. He blinked and squinted, and the fortune was still blank.
links for 2006-09-04
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need to get a larger one than what we have to be able to do this.
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C is trying to help some folks use the non-hyphen one. looks like a mistake to me, but then again, I’m not a hippie. 😉
links for 2006-09-03
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“Knowing where to put your energy on days like this requires genius.” saw this at the coffeeshop; it really was that kind of day, too.
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we were talking about this sort of thing at breakfast….
links for 2006-09-02
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those would be the raccoons of the Westside, not on our side of town. 😉 but interesting to note the possibility that it’s coyotes instead. (I’ve heard of people spotting coyotes in Oly before.)
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neat rollover of old map of north Tacoma with modern Google Earth. (I used to go walking in that neighborhood and in the ravine when I was in college.) I’ve always wanted to see overlays of what Tacoma used to look like!
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crazy 19th century anti-women’s-sufferage propaganda, too.
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“The difference is not in this early experience; the difference is in whether or not you’re prepared to let something new change your life.” YES!
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“The MFA experience can confuse the writing of poetry, as a career, with the writing of a poem as a need or impulse.” I thought, briefly, a long time ago, about going for an MFA. It occurred to me even then, I think, that it was just an escape from the w
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listen when NOT sitting in quiet coffeeshop
the very last person to comment
I was reading yet another person being annoyed/outraged by the whole Forbes marriage article thing, and it reminded me of something I noticed when I read the point/counterpoint version. (I was too late to catch the original.)
The man’s version? Long, filled with (alleged) statistics. The woman’s version? Short, and all about the storytelling. He says, statistically career women are this. She says, my marriage is happy.
It irritates me, because the use of the anecdote almost implies that the author is somehow exceptional or unusual. She doesn’t (IIRC) bother to show any countervailing statistics, or point out the bias in his sources. Nope, she’s just happy, and that means that it’s okay, which makes a weak-ass counterpoint, when there is (obviously) a hell of a lot of people out there who can provide a strong & meaningful counterpoint.
Nothing else, really; I’m just saying, is all.
thursday poetry: time
“September One”
around Labor Day
I feel time
moving
when my birthday
is within hand’s reach
not only mine but
also: sister, husband,
father-in-law,
beloved grandma gone and
the one I loved
and lost
and found
and at each birthday
I know which it is
by the cards in the mail
or not
also: the coincidence
with the start of school
Grandma told a story
(one of N)
the teacher said
“no, you’re mixed up
today’s the first day
of school”
when it really was
her birthday too
and not just the new year
as surely as
January 1
with all the implications
of promises made
kept & forgotten
and for that reason also
the anniversary of my arrival
across the mighty Columbia
the first time
feeling this kind of fall
roll in
the first time
(later would come
snowflakes the first time)
each year as Labor Day slides past
(put away the white shoes)
each marker ticks over
to the next number
and I am this old
it has been this long
since
ten years ago I came home
from camping
answering machine light
blinking
“Becca was in that accident”
52 cars
“she’s in a coma”
and after two weeks
one fatality
five years ago my sister
(the one born in December
day before Pearl Harbor Day)
said over the phone
“now we have something else
in common”
and it was a sick joke
but no less true
today I saw a pumpkin
in the garden
orange beginning to spread
over the green
time moving
over the garden
as summer gives
over to fall