tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59633701966187859632024-03-06T00:59:53.242-06:00reports from the stone rolledthese are some ramblings from the poet francine j. harris. (originally called reports from detroit) i started this blog upon returning home to detroit. but now it's written elsewhere, again. about elsewhere, again. francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-75294325617185042092022-04-25T15:53:00.005-05:002022-04-25T16:58:52.555-05:00Today it was announced Musk is buying Twitter. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">It seems like a good time to do something I've been wanting to do for awhile anyway: Go back to my blog. </span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToYDYAI9N4z1Lx-uc5pgWEBB9dI6YHX6_XKul8-7P60vKu1Cj5g1vv1srnqN0jFzR3FK9l6uTWgtKkEuwuZmTPBsq9c3MTzXlqVmrGpii8tvlRp3w13PUN-7fRO4AcsuSKxH8fVCKb-xSeIDRlVQkyjvE1z9fgfoHobWiGOZKff5a3EPt3700Qm_-/s4032/IMG_5093.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToYDYAI9N4z1Lx-uc5pgWEBB9dI6YHX6_XKul8-7P60vKu1Cj5g1vv1srnqN0jFzR3FK9l6uTWgtKkEuwuZmTPBsq9c3MTzXlqVmrGpii8tvlRp3w13PUN-7fRO4AcsuSKxH8fVCKb-xSeIDRlVQkyjvE1z9fgfoHobWiGOZKff5a3EPt3700Qm_-/w480-h640/IMG_5093.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><p></p><p>I've missed these little posts that make it into the ether and work however they work. Posts I sometimes never hear anything about. Sometimes people would say they followed my blog. I moderate the comments here and maybe that's why I didn't get much comment. I don't think I'll change that. </p><p>But I miss having a place where matter has a chance to scatter, to issue, to disperse before matter comes back at it to meet, to resist, to subsume, to evaluate, to consume, to obliterate.</p><p>Our little thoughts into the world without the equal or greater force.</p><p>Maybe I'll try for a daily thing, but I don't really like the idea of this being some kind of chore. </p><p>I have a couple posts in mind and so I'll start there. </p><p> </p>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-21903054693017085062020-12-23T20:12:00.003-06:002020-12-23T20:17:36.840-06:00I'll Never Be Able to Publish This Gross LIttle Poem Now, So Here...<p>I got a research fellowship and so I moved back to New York in 2018. The gig was for a year, but it felt right; I'd wanted to go back to New York. I thought I would be as blissful as I was when I lived there in the early otts. </p><p>But I found it very stressful. Not just the getting around, though that too, but suddenly I found myself being very intolerant, in fact - grossed out by (of all things) dirt and germs. It was strange because this is not my particular brand of OCDishness. I like beets. I repot plants with bare hands. I sit in the grass. I can. handle the earth! </p><p>But this time being there. Everything smelled strong. Everything felt dirty. I found myself washing my hands a lot and taking off all my clothes when I got in the house. I used things to press elevator buttons. I got picky about restrooms. I was kind of overwhelmed by the tactile aspect. </p><p>And of course, when the universe sees you being squeamish like that - she <i>will</i> fuck with you. So I found myself tripping in vomit, stepping in dogshit, men next to me on the train would drop their sweaty hairy legs onto mine. Women sneezed on me. One time I came out to my car and found this...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMleWqSmVmewx2aVy1ey8rhi51G1dIF3RSMU6NrLwfUd35a7Z-WdRnFcfqXzsv1epBA-zh7SB9iKkKnLrecjCS6dKOiWSz85OLy3sFgFihyphenhyphenL_ek8qEh0AYYPnU5Fqb7v6Ik2a3f5Y2Us4/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="512" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMleWqSmVmewx2aVy1ey8rhi51G1dIF3RSMU6NrLwfUd35a7Z-WdRnFcfqXzsv1epBA-zh7SB9iKkKnLrecjCS6dKOiWSz85OLy3sFgFihyphenhyphenL_ek8qEh0AYYPnU5Fqb7v6Ik2a3f5Y2Us4/w394-h206/image.png" width="394" /></a></div><br />...yeah that's blood. <p></p><p>Another time, rats moved into the engine. This is their bathroom. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdebXNpowzn5ZanheJKaALujLT4snp7VNNzy7GpDRgEGTEuknF3OqBjm6LA-Ee_i1jWShh0uvxNgAf4w31pvhgslxeri3A7ghX5yuijC4svbIxMiWc0cIqjaF53Jd7lyIXVvwOr4q4wU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="512" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdebXNpowzn5ZanheJKaALujLT4snp7VNNzy7GpDRgEGTEuknF3OqBjm6LA-Ee_i1jWShh0uvxNgAf4w31pvhgslxeri3A7ghX5yuijC4svbIxMiWc0cIqjaF53Jd7lyIXVvwOr4q4wU/w409-h307/image.png" width="409" /></a></div><br />...which was actually not far from their kitchen. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNkNx-2kZ-Ng1vREJzhGTTSGf56E7dbwiAlLTzEhJnl5Wkdm_FMurZ3niwGQ94Ojs77pTbxYo7nYrTsRgcXB_7VTsVUYiI4KL8fxOp4qBC_YjZ_EoJ8_9H0e4hx4LB3cUItIcScBGWXU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="512" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNkNx-2kZ-Ng1vREJzhGTTSGf56E7dbwiAlLTzEhJnl5Wkdm_FMurZ3niwGQ94Ojs77pTbxYo7nYrTsRgcXB_7VTsVUYiI4KL8fxOp4qBC_YjZ_EoJ8_9H0e4hx4LB3cUItIcScBGWXU/w377-h283/image.png" width="377" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Anyway, New York was very visceral this time around. So I wrote this poem. This was December of 2018. It's completely unviable as a poem now, for obvious pandemic reasons. So I'll post it here. It's interesting though, I think it's one of the reasons I was vying to get out of dodge so quickly. I just felt...slimed on. <div><br /></div><div>So...odd.<br /><p></p><div><br /></div><div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{153}" paraid="625512686" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun MacChromeBold SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">I belittle the germ</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{159}" paraid="1810674746" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{165}" paraid="1925912318" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">Because of the dirt, the soles, the steady dragging in.</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{171}" paraid="1950223686" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">I belittle the germ. Hack it off at the neck. Stand in dominion</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{177}" paraid="193999396" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">and devalue. Ward off. Send away. Look at all this leak, the spit</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{183}" paraid="903888476" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">the bowel under nail, the way we kiss each cheek and absorb</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{189}" paraid="1992628863" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">one another’s wayward downwind of mouth. Wipe it off, then</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{195}" paraid="43416190" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">swipe it into cloth and fabric. Relax and catch it. Can see it</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{201}" paraid="1642458392" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">coming in the soggy air. Hocking up. Taking aim. Dogs</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{207}" paraid="1288014294" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{213}" paraid="1363523737" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">with them, doing it everywhere. Too much to pickup</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{219}" paraid="2059905014" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">and rub it into glove and drag it down guardrails and pull</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{225}" paraid="1485010217" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">it down into knots holding on to the strap, the pole, they</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{231}" paraid="1177721909" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{237}" paraid="513765332" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">are coming in shells. All bundle of them, faces open at orifice</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{243}" paraid="1704055279" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">clothes full of the shit, throats ready to factory, eyes leaking engorged</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{249}" paraid="640657235" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">they are moving in quicker and smiling about it. All happy to shake</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{ea0ac34c-2101-48e0-a95c-c6c525484f35}{255}" paraid="221440871" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">hands and touch hair and stand so close, meanwhile you can see</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{6}" paraid="1971164799" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">the pores summoning fluid. I am walking toward them, hair</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{12}" paraid="1845722188" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{18}" paraid="381967023" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">falling out. Trouble in breath, thighs flaking off. We are at</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{24}" paraid="98022600" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">a standstill, bruised at the stitching, deep wave fungus climbing</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{30}" paraid="1061102052" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">from the cracked cement into the skin between our feet.</span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{36}" paraid="1946418015" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", "Times New Roman_MSFontService", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{42}" paraid="1473206696" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US">Our feet are always in motion like this. Always in step. </span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #222222; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW188231955" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph SCXW188231955 BCX0" paraeid="{380ec86c-b2c2-4cbb-80bd-29a824a19f78}{48}" paraid="367874296" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-indent: 48px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="TextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW188231955 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"></span></span><span class="EOP SCXW188231955 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559731":720,"335559740":276}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-family: Cambria, Cambria_MSFontService, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></p></div></div></div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-18098791811477620342020-03-05T01:54:00.001-06:002020-03-05T01:54:48.906-06:00End TimesI am playing hookie from the poets. The huggy poets who I see are hugging and while I miss the touching, I don't miss this feeling of not being sure there is a tomorrow to speak of. It's easier to sit in the almost dark and listen to Tidus while the boy sleeps on the couch, curled up.<br />
<br />
Lately, I sweat over almost nothing. Literally, I mean. Can never get the temperature right. There's been a photo of a rusted out gas pipe sitting on my blog for about three years now. It keeps me from adding anything new.<br />
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It's a different age. We're so aware of everything. Plastics. Glacial melt. Now this. Our first modern pandemic. That which we don't understand empties airports. And leaves me sitting in the modern quiet with an aching shoulder and a sweaty brow. This town is so moist. Swamp and dewy.<br />
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I try to locate myself in this crowd and I can't quite. Everytime I try to open the gate of my indifference, I remember how it is I walked in. Backwards actually. Watching the door.<br />
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<br />francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-59333636686201502312015-01-04T03:41:00.000-06:002015-01-04T13:09:09.240-06:00Christmas Town, Too Late, Somewhere <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymSQmf5p22F1e6RTf-F-uos9pVO67hsrEBRtO3ozEDwtq0D8AOJgy_6OeCIEfBL0btwSlzMIeJmqmDh7h3bhR9EF_EIL32b1eaJWXrKe4lYfntEoii6WSO0J_GdICtLf0wE2RB15D4dc/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymSQmf5p22F1e6RTf-F-uos9pVO67hsrEBRtO3ozEDwtq0D8AOJgy_6OeCIEfBL0btwSlzMIeJmqmDh7h3bhR9EF_EIL32b1eaJWXrKe4lYfntEoii6WSO0J_GdICtLf0wE2RB15D4dc/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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There's nothing much sadder than Christmas images after the New Year. It's a sign of a dead-end hope for next Christmas already, of fatigue from the surge, of the cheapest sort of nostalgia for that which happened just a week ago.<br />
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It sort of feels like that half-smattering of snow still on the ground. Where the snowdrift sits atop barren dirt piles. A cow pattern of winter. Leftover. Lingering. Yawned and sighed.<br />
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HAPPPPpppp<span style="font-size: x-small;">yyyy Neww</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">w Year!!! (sound of fading flatulent paper horns)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinozMwwSfnUbPD540Anl68JrG-W1W-FB9KiOGUjFldMqGGW4Cow7GkEt6Y-U9e4REmz3i8Mrkk6yKBiWOV5xuewZY5B81LeSMsFaGWvF84MLPeEML5VN1Xa4wyvygxkWfHWZYrxJPbY0U/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinozMwwSfnUbPD540Anl68JrG-W1W-FB9KiOGUjFldMqGGW4Cow7GkEt6Y-U9e4REmz3i8Mrkk6yKBiWOV5xuewZY5B81LeSMsFaGWvF84MLPeEML5VN1Xa4wyvygxkWfHWZYrxJPbY0U/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" height="132" width="200" /></a>I have always disliked the aftermath of holidays. My family used to try to console me by leaving trees up long after Christmas was over - after I'd returned to school, after I'd already worn (and likely ripped or stained or otherwise ruined) whatever was in the boxes, and after we'd settled back into the busy tedium of the new rest-of-the schoolyear.<br />
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It's because I have a January birthday. They left things up until then. We were better than some, whose sad santas and half-baked-in-the-sun snowpeople sat in soggy yards until the first spring rain. We did, after all, have an expiration date.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5R33zwwyHm3o4NDaRsGj-4pWXjwx2ggb3RpAbK_nrGiS-vsK2VS_bAXN9SQ1cnd-Iw1WgW9QIvnUA7WX_yKMuH68W-GZsR0TW7woXZOEvb7hVjZZuz9z_CjjwNYldmzdiloi0xxoZ4bI/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5R33zwwyHm3o4NDaRsGj-4pWXjwx2ggb3RpAbK_nrGiS-vsK2VS_bAXN9SQ1cnd-Iw1WgW9QIvnUA7WX_yKMuH68W-GZsR0TW7woXZOEvb7hVjZZuz9z_CjjwNYldmzdiloi0xxoZ4bI/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" height="208" width="320" /></a>But the leftover of Christmas also seems to me a kind of protest against normal. Holidays are certainly that. Consumerism aside, we like the non-ordinary, the parade, the carnival, of it all.<br />
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Within parameters, of course. The non-normal is sanctioned. The weirdness is supported by the non-weirdness of the accepted custom. You can be extreme and bizarre within that sanction, as long as it's rooted squarely within the tradition.<br />
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How much I've longed to happen upon a place where I could sit and drink rooibos tea under dim lights with a picnic table and string lights. There are places outside Michigan where that happens. But here, it's a Seuss-fantasy stuffed inside a Christmas stocking.<br />
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What I wouldn't give to find this table out there in my every day, without the triangle trees, maybe without the snow, or at least with a tent and an outdoor heater.<br />
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These images are taken from a Christmas park off of US-31 here in Interlochen. It's actually the back lot of a motorcycle shop. Little place called CycleMoore. I've never been inside. But a worker talked to me while I was taking pictures and told me they sell and fix antiques. He seemed a little wary of me. I'm used to that now. (Am I? Maybe not.) It's also hard to tell 'wary' up here, exactly. People seem naturally a little skittish. <br />
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The display is gone now. Just like the holiday is gone. The world is about to set in again, with its corrections and diplomacies and careful wording and adjusting and straightening and filing and saving and squinting and sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact and moderations and appropriate time lengths and closed doors and open doors and listening intently and snagging sleep and curbing cruelties.<br />
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But gone too is the very quiet and the really hermit. The withdrawal and the resigned. The easy and the undress. The wrung midnight and the extended sighs. The closed window and the cold engine. The photo rifling and the reenacting. Again and again. <br />
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It's a new year and another opportunity to push forward and reach out and decorate each day. So yeah ...<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
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oh. p.s. ..............</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7iA8jAKh4sJjEznn-fEmVuDODtIuQfaXQYhthYFZCWsqq4sBaJ7ZlY5357xHbEVPRsBBE7AN3wwDOE1hA2QgJpki7BRdryzfSllIF6m_pA17nB964k_wkzZSJ5vUaGyY1QuZXAaBoYQ/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7iA8jAKh4sJjEznn-fEmVuDODtIuQfaXQYhthYFZCWsqq4sBaJ7ZlY5357xHbEVPRsBBE7AN3wwDOE1hA2QgJpki7BRdryzfSllIF6m_pA17nB964k_wkzZSJ5vUaGyY1QuZXAaBoYQ/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">is it just me, or is this a brother?</td></tr>
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<br />francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-18155033554638541992014-03-07T15:27:00.001-06:002014-03-07T15:43:52.788-06:00the last of the chili powder<div style="text-align: justify;">
Year seven and material disintegrates. It's a matter ... of matter. And time. Last night, I used the last of my mother's chili powder. The hollow canister echoed the final caked particles too fat for the shaker holes. Hit it a few times and nothing else came out.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C7TSVD9swJS1yDtOKJrrWkZLIgQ6KufnlNGTdPm_DZc7Ry_-KkjmK0Onrw7Fu_0OCigaQtGoSSRtcaqZeOXmWHZGpsNzEJwGQj_c_UObSs4tLmHfQCixjRLH-EMhAjQjVOTvVitPCnQ/s1600/of+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C7TSVD9swJS1yDtOKJrrWkZLIgQ6KufnlNGTdPm_DZc7Ry_-KkjmK0Onrw7Fu_0OCigaQtGoSSRtcaqZeOXmWHZGpsNzEJwGQj_c_UObSs4tLmHfQCixjRLH-EMhAjQjVOTvVitPCnQ/s1600/of+mom.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mom and dad, circa 2004</td></tr>
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Someone once told me that when someone very close to you dies, it takes awhile for all your 'selves' to understand that they are gone. The you who called Mom when you were lonely, vs. the you who went home because you felt obligated to go. The you who still felt safe in her living room or the you who learned how to cook from watching her roll various doughy objects in buttered hands. </div>
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I used the line in a poem. <i>All your selves know, now. </i> I thought it was genius. Of course the closest I've heard to this philosophy from anyone else comes from a scene in <i>Bates Motel </i>where Norman Bates is trying to console Bradley Martin about her dad. He tells her: </div>
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<i>I think grief is just the period of time it takes for your brain to accept that someone's gone. Cause everything in your body, your mind, your entire being being just keeps bringing you back to the moment that they're still alive. Takes a long time for your body to let go of that.</i></div>
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Just look at that canister. I'm not sure they make these anymore. Spartan apparently merged with Nash Foods. I got to give 'em credit. They're one of few stores that stayed in Detroit. Farmer Jack, Kroger. They all pulled out. The blacker the city got, the faster they flew. When Farmer Jack went out of business I thought it was kismet. Of course, Spartans were never the best. Cheap and not well-stocked. The best produce I ever saw in a Spartan store was this morning on their revamped website. But that was then. Maybe they are different now. </div>
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What does it mean that while writing this post, a drunk man wandered into my backyard and lay himself across my porch, talking to the afternoon sky. I walked in on: <i>...so much softness out there.</i> He sat there for awhile. I watched him for awhile from inside. That initial thought: Call the police. Then I thought. For fucking what? He's just sitting there. Talking to the goddamn sky. </div>
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Every so often my mother would bring people home. To feed. She'd try to do it before my father got home. Because he would flip out. I guess from the outside looking in it was bad. Her bringing home those wild-eyed ones with their not-great smell. But my mother had a sense of things. More than a lot of people I know. Sometimes she had such a calm about her. Manic woman that she was, she could be so even-handed, so free of fright, and easy. In those moments, the shit was zen. Nothing could hurt us. I wasn't scared of her restless friends, or the time it took for her to make them meals. They often babbled on and I would go to my room, rather than 'have to' engage. But it's a small house. I was just out of eyesight. I could hear the whole exchange. The way they listed on and the way my mother would interject if there was quiet. </div>
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<i>Do you want pickles?</i></div>
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It's my father who taught me the worst place to protect yourself is in hiding. My folks didn't like to hide. Too much most of the time. They were so visible. With his shotgun and her various days. They were not ashamed. Not of that. Anything that needed to be dealt with needed to be aired. Everybody knew everybody's everything. </div>
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Eventually I went out and asked him to leave. That went over weird. He said these were his friends too. I asked him to leave. He said no. He said it adamant, but soft. So I offered him a sandwich. He said yes. He said <i>We'll wait right here. </i>He waited for it in the snow. Like a chair. He took a seat in the snow. </div>
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What I wanted to talk about was how old spices have a smoke to them. An age. How I suspect that metal canister does some kind of barreling where plastic just lets it get stale. Seriously. Do you understand this last dash of chili powder I soaked into the onions for last night's turkey burgers would have to be at least 25 years old. I'm saying, I remember it as a kid. I remember wondering what my very basic-recipe mother was doing with chili powder. She kept in the back of a metal spice cabinet, piled high with canisters and small vials of space like a professor's crowded library. When she cooked, she clicked the vials around and re-ordered and repiled. </div>
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I gave him the sandwich. I asked his name. He gave me his whole name. He said it needed more mayo. Or some ketchup. Apparently I make the shit too dry. Eventually he asked for a ride to his sister's. I asked where she lived. He gave me his wallet. His wallet had a cracked driver's license, social security card and someone named Jeff's phone number. The photo on the i.d.: short hair, smiling, tanned. No sister's number. I thought about it for a long time. He said <i>My colleagues are waiting on us. </i></div>
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It was the kind of calm I think came from the way she soothed her mind. When she locked everyone else out. She taught me how to do it. How to soothe it away. Eventually she turned it over to me and I was in charge. I stroked it away. I got to be good at it. By the time I was a teenager, I could make it go away. I could rock her and rock her. Or sometimes I could just stand in the door. </div>
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<i>Fine. </i>I said. The fuck am I doing? I give this dude a ride somewhere, it's a whole other level. He's gonna puke in my car. His sister won't want to open the door. He'll pass out in my car. He's already asking me to help him up out of the snow. The second time. The third.</div>
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The Spartans. were militant. They took over ancient Greece and dominated through the Greek army. Maybe that wasn't their whole shtick. But that's what they're revered for. It's not even about being the victor, it's about spirit of the war, the valor. All the fences you have to put on the body to have the valor, the metal. The shield, the armor. To wear the air of the conqueror. </div>
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<i>Who are you? </i>He kept asking. <i>You're taking control and I do not like it.</i></div>
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I got my coat. My keys. My i.d. He fell three times in the snow on the way to the gate. He wanted to climb the fence. I told him there was an easier way out. We walked through the gate. I asked him where we were going. He walked out past the car. He pointed to the sky. Up the hill, he said. I don't know where he meant. I said do you know where she lives. He pointed a different way. He walked out past the car. To the alley between me and the crappy fast food joint that stinks around this time of day.</div>
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He looked down the alley. I had my keys, I guess. I had them. He said: <i>There they are. They're waiting on us. Come on. </i>He said. I said <i>You see 'em? </i>He said <i>Yeah they're right there. </i>I said well then go on ahead. </div>
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I have this image of my mother doing a strange dance in the kitchen when she is restless. She's in a housecoat. Much like this one. She's making a funny face. She's throwing her body and her arms around to no particular rhythm. That's how she danced. The floors would thump. There may or may not be any music. But you could hear her slippered feet.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dad in a junkyard wheelchair. he used to wheel it around the yard.</td></tr>
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francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-13018592031475375442014-01-31T02:28:00.002-06:002014-01-31T10:37:00.706-06:00The Salad that Has Kept Me QuitMy friend Mark quit smoking recently and I’ve been super proud of him. I’m not sure if this will work for him, but I wanted to share it. I have been eating some variation of this salad almost every day since I quit smoking over 2 years ago, and I’m inclined to think it has helped me stay quit. I usually eat it after my meals (the European way) and that after-dinner craving I used to have pretty much dissipated. Considering that's the strongest urge of the day, I think there's something to it. <br />
Of course, I also took up yoga early on and then running and working out a bit (and craft beer for the kick) to keep my days happy and smoke-free, but I know that when I was smoking I always craved citrus – it just never tasted good. Now I think I can appreciate the flavor and this feels like one of the healthiest parts of my day. I’ve also heard that seeds, especially pumpkin and sesame seeds, are deterrent for nicotine. So here’s to staying quit. I hope it helps. Cheers, Mark, and everyone else trying to take better care of their lungs.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">GreenFruit Suppression</span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Chopped greens (romaine and/or red + baby spinach is great)<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>¼ cucumber, partially pared (the peel is good for you, I take off one or two sides for texture, then slice)<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>¼ avocado, sliced<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>½ ruby red grapefruit, skinned and sectioned into bite size pieces<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>2 tbsp. fresh red beets, skinned and chopped fine<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 tbsp. fresh carrots, chopped fine<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 tbsp. shredded white cheese (mozzarella and/or provolone + italian is nice)<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> about </span>1 tbsp. pumpkin seeds<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Red wine vinegar<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFKszpQemIScsar6BHpbDsgKkBRHQCCCxxmk_dQOiEZqxeAfhriCPagGyHTnKpby1ZIPHSzcrcEAoO2i4Wcev1z-knFYZYRrEFUz6aF0ZuCrJ_EYGRwuQ8HsbKL_9Jyww0tRXqw9tKLA/s1600/20140130_230712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFKszpQemIScsar6BHpbDsgKkBRHQCCCxxmk_dQOiEZqxeAfhriCPagGyHTnKpby1ZIPHSzcrcEAoO2i4Wcev1z-knFYZYRrEFUz6aF0ZuCrJ_EYGRwuQ8HsbKL_9Jyww0tRXqw9tKLA/s1600/20140130_230712.jpg" height="200" width="161" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGL5MZnoTv7WIVLDFikivnT-bBYq10-Mx48BSlyM_gd3atmjPNSW9Y_kxv80piQ3o7Io-cVVCJSWrl-AFfoJwLhT-9LnUJ6Mp1DHxm4J-jrcW0Jq58TL3f476ZNF8jGZo3Z7GvTdwLTI/s1600/20140130_230957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGL5MZnoTv7WIVLDFikivnT-bBYq10-Mx48BSlyM_gd3atmjPNSW9Y_kxv80piQ3o7Io-cVVCJSWrl-AFfoJwLhT-9LnUJ6Mp1DHxm4J-jrcW0Jq58TL3f476ZNF8jGZo3Z7GvTdwLTI/s1600/20140130_230957.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglN27WHMeyU8iJjuj8LTLlG5KKoNtZOnvN0FYbytxkeLDcw7C6gRK1-QBLE8V4rz1yRbWRv6kSPuWBh7V6iULLVuBnDsRhYjgrParwEvnC0w8qZEG-5rn1vswxcy7jEywVNpN4nIXSa2s/s1600/20140130_232117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglN27WHMeyU8iJjuj8LTLlG5KKoNtZOnvN0FYbytxkeLDcw7C6gRK1-QBLE8V4rz1yRbWRv6kSPuWBh7V6iULLVuBnDsRhYjgrParwEvnC0w8qZEG-5rn1vswxcy7jEywVNpN4nIXSa2s/s1600/20140130_232117.jpg" height="200" width="155" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpPHVjZYO-2oAoWTtBFvy1kzRAuQ_lqjtDOevm8DHhdDlOHnFiQmk9wtyPwrEqxIM4K-Z6jvW5FC2EmZgzIGs3mdotxIO_DNggQ5til948isvssUDXiPe_HG8sE3MYAInO0XHfrcB6gw/s1600/20140130_231412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpPHVjZYO-2oAoWTtBFvy1kzRAuQ_lqjtDOevm8DHhdDlOHnFiQmk9wtyPwrEqxIM4K-Z6jvW5FC2EmZgzIGs3mdotxIO_DNggQ5til948isvssUDXiPe_HG8sE3MYAInO0XHfrcB6gw/s1600/20140130_231412.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a><br />
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So my salad is all about layering. Prep everything first except the avocado. Mix greens and cucumber and lay in serving bowl. Slice avocado over the greens in an even layer. Then add the grapefruit. (The citrus softens the avocado and gives the salad texture. You can actually get away with not using dressing it all, if you do it this way). Add the rest of the ingredients, also in even layers and sprinkle generously with pumpkin seeds. Dress with red wine vinegar. Raspberry vinaigrette also works well. Variations help keep the salad an interesting part of your daily diet.<br />
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<i>Variation </i>(optional add-ons)<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Craisins (flavored ok) or golden raisins<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Green pepper, chopped<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Chopped turkey deli meat or chicken breast (cooked, obviously)<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Unsalted sesame seeds<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Top with fresh sliced strawberries! Oh yum.<br />
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<br />francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-62604706121791584282013-12-31T17:31:00.002-06:002013-12-31T18:39:46.783-06:00The year in knee caps. (which have nothing to do with this post)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBIjbuxCxRC3TkM39e2QK9x9imQl8yBk8-0QYfWzj1qWgr_GKzTkK7BSpJoUzlcbtwz1uWMIfzSyPQMCtdgCirriC6w4aHPDG2CNzuzkllmJ6CL_O3m43go0SBtCrm2vETP9Et5rmwJc/s1600/20131231_185442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBIjbuxCxRC3TkM39e2QK9x9imQl8yBk8-0QYfWzj1qWgr_GKzTkK7BSpJoUzlcbtwz1uWMIfzSyPQMCtdgCirriC6w4aHPDG2CNzuzkllmJ6CL_O3m43go0SBtCrm2vETP9Et5rmwJc/s320/20131231_185442.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I've always liked the number 13. I've never had a bad Friday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">
Cycles are fine. But years are odd. Each year is worth a white candle and a brisk body of water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Odd, maddening, merciful, strange, the days. Each day marks turn, come to think of it. Nothing is where we left it. Gravity heavy harder on knotted anchor. the dust shifts corners. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
When you teach young people, particularly teenagers, there comes a day when you look in their eyes and you see they have grown. A day for aware. Awake in the senses to something they did not know before. I imagine they do not see this in their own reflections, so subtle the change. But as you age, you learn to look for it. In your own small glasses. Hear it in your own voices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
The years collect knowledge. absence. a different indifference. renewed trouble, angst and fear. sweetened bliss. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Subtleties of our unresolved grit churn in mortar under the weight of our pestling bones. The body distributes. disturbs. Some days you wake alarmed at how fresh memory ruins in like the sun. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
And at how much you've forgotten. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
So another year. Here.here. And more acutely aware of each day, each hour. To love, we have been given movement. As great as our Nelson Mandela. As wild and loud as our Wanda Coleman. The voice is changed and colder (it's Winter here more often, you see). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
The street sweep kicks out kids once playing in hushed golden sun. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Thankyou to my friends for keeping me alive. And writing. And unruly loved. </span>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-54914500089189653112013-12-03T00:46:00.001-06:002014-01-31T00:32:42.076-06:00Poem: James Franco Took My Rebel Panties Off.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbCIAf-nrI2hljt3HiOkk3r4uW7-gYVorWSNBRc75OwttkPYgiQI6Uxyh41ByBT7p0VQl7NzeiolLsK47pFRbe9YGypJy5TGxH0jZwmp8xDgnNpddgl8KFcbNPsFmm8BstWnUO2FQBGM/s1600/james+franco+poem_Page_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbCIAf-nrI2hljt3HiOkk3r4uW7-gYVorWSNBRc75OwttkPYgiQI6Uxyh41ByBT7p0VQl7NzeiolLsK47pFRbe9YGypJy5TGxH0jZwmp8xDgnNpddgl8KFcbNPsFmm8BstWnUO2FQBGM/s1600/james+franco+poem_Page_2.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a><br />
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from Heavy Feather Review (c) 2013. All rights reserved. </div>
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<br />francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-11629913626868912972013-04-10T17:48:00.000-05:002013-04-10T17:48:22.789-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"at Thomas Lynch reading, UofM - December 2010"</div>
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I found this drawing today that I did a couple years ago, and thought I'd post it. <span style="text-align: center;">I know the lady in the ponytail is Eileen Pollack. I think Michael Byers is to her right. I can't remember who's head is cocked in that strange way in the front row, but I remember being fascinated by the pose. </span></div>
francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-2048214937618787902013-03-24T03:23:00.001-05:002014-10-05T12:02:27.235-05:00The Stream - "A Man Named Pearl"Tonight I watched the 2006 documentary, <i>A
Man Named Pearl. </i>The story is about Pearl Fryar, a topiary artist in Bishopville, South Carolina. Bishopville is a small town that Fryar's topiary garden has apparently put "on the map." Tourists come from miles and states and countries
away to see the 3-acre artscape. And, in fact, if you google the address to Fryar's garden, not only is Bishopville on the map, but so is Pearl Fryar. The Google satellite view
shows, not only some of his incredible leafy sculptures, but also a shot of
the artist himself, cruising along on a John Deere down Broad Acres road.<br />
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Ultimately, I love this story. Scott Galloway, as director and producer, codirects and coproduces
this documentary about Pearl Fryar, who is not just an awe worthy artist, but seems
like a pretty incredible human being. He spends time mentoring youth, cares
about his community, and has that kind of can-do attitude that must be a
documentarian's wet dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I've had this title in my queue for a
while on Netflix. I kept not watching it. I think it's because I am suspicious
about documentaries (and film in general) about African Americans just now. I'm
kind of in a place. I find myself not just disappointed with some of the
depictions, but heartbroken. I knew I would like Fryar just from looking at his
face in profile on the thumbnail of the movie blurb. I didn't want to be
heartbroken.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And, indeed, I had to unclench
my teeth a few times during the beginning of <i>A Man Named Pearl</i>. Here's a story about an artist in a small town
in South Carolina who taught himself horticulture and landscape art and, with
years of daily work, created an incredible garden.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul4CgVMK3uNQf6-A0BdjxdUx1PUh4JQe6caiNES-L_anKGaRGWyG22j5Teluv6dxZmKAVSLzRglMjSPU0WfjYaraVJlnPZux9975v6OFFcsa2zPT7mDNgdYKi2nlsfRwh_J7Q1Oflkmw/s1600/Hollywood-Juniper-at-Pearl-Fryar-s_main_banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul4CgVMK3uNQf6-A0BdjxdUx1PUh4JQe6caiNES-L_anKGaRGWyG22j5Teluv6dxZmKAVSLzRglMjSPU0WfjYaraVJlnPZux9975v6OFFcsa2zPT7mDNgdYKi2nlsfRwh_J7Q1Oflkmw/s320/Hollywood-Juniper-at-Pearl-Fryar-s_main_banner.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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But the term "artist"
is not often used about Fyar in this documentary. And it's difficult to tell
why, or how that's happened. That's the problem with documentaries. You can
never tell if it's the interviewer’s angle you are witnessing, or the people
being interviewed, or both. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In this film, the larger
impression of Pearl Fryar is that he is a worker – doing a great job. And doing
such a great job, that he gets Employee of the Year (or here it is Bishopville’s
coveted <i>Yard of the Month</i> award)
which set him on his way. The vicars esteeming his dedication include people
such as the Director of the Chamber of Commerce, a news editor, the AME pastor,
and a friend named Polly Lafitte, who is clearly a museum curator, but for some
reason is not connected, in title, to the museum that has commissioned Fryar’s work, but
is only listed as “Friend.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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There are strange moments in
this narrative, such as the Commerce Director talking about the money coming in
from the tourists in such a fiduciary way that it leaves the viewer
wondering if Fryar actually sees any of the moneys that he apparently generates
for this local economy. You really can't tell. Coupled with a strange scene of
the Waffle House waitress in a rather condescending spiel about how she makes
sure Pearl Fryar and his wife "eat for free," one has to
wonder what the town allows Fryar to believe about his monetary worth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZt5zIU0iw2EX01tY0ZZORW4Lb3tSuZXA4DY7TU0rg5AdkwWKZEF6j_I_iDGlEELP4DovTb9AYxNs5YjnII5LsRzEAtlIkw26EVtPg4Fs1cpZbUoTivLacnFg8bKnai9vwZHwgpySKto/s1600/pearl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZt5zIU0iw2EX01tY0ZZORW4Lb3tSuZXA4DY7TU0rg5AdkwWKZEF6j_I_iDGlEELP4DovTb9AYxNs5YjnII5LsRzEAtlIkw26EVtPg4Fs1cpZbUoTivLacnFg8bKnai9vwZHwgpySKto/s1600/pearl.jpg" /></a><br />
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Another troubling aspect of
the film is the impetus for Fryar’s art. The response to this notion is put
forth by the townspeople, but not entirely challenged by Galloway and crew. It
is said several times that Fryar is the son of a sharecropper and
grew up in very difficult times. Yet, at a logical point in the sequence of the
documentary when it feels time for a viewer to understand what started all this
for Fryar, the revelatory <i>human-triumph
</i>music kicks in and the dialogue is cut back and forth between Fryar and his
younger friend, Lafitte. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Lafitte: "When Pearl
first came to <span style="text-indent: 0px;">Bishopville</span> … he looked at a house in a particular neighborhood
and he really wasn't welcomed there because of his race." <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fryar: "I guess
it's the same thing you would have anywhere, would be, a problem of uh, I guess
really kinda' accepting the fact of someone strange moving into your
neighborhood."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lafitte: “There was the
statement made that they didn't really want him in this neighborhood because he
wouldn't keep up his yard and that's a racial stereotype that's difficult for
anyone to handle."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fryar: "It's human nature to look out for
whoever look like you. You understand what I mean? And ... there's always gonna’
be those obstacles. The thing about it is to make you strong enough that you
don't let those obstacles become what determine where you go".
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Lafitte: "Pearl
handled it very, very well in a positive way and said 'I want to do something
that is spectacular in keeping up my yard.’"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thus, we are sort of left
with the impression that Fryar’s impetus for his life of art was that <i>Yard of the Month</i> award.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But Fryar, in the way of
retrospective, also talks about his father as role model. And I have to think, based
on how he talks about him, that much of his art is in honor of his father's
hard work – his father the sharecropper, a man with a third grade education,
who spent countless hours farming another man's land. From our understanding of
sharecropping, we have to imagine that those hours were brutal, exhausting, fruitless
and ultimately, artless. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“One of the things about
farming, like you had to work. This was like basically a 24 hour a day job. And
when you grow up in that kind of environment where work is the only thing that
you have to offer. – if the people felt like you was not a good worker, you
couldn't get a farmer to farm [for] the next year to feed your family. So I saw my
father go through that." – Pearl Fryar<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the most fascinating,
and sometimes troubling aspect of this documentary, is that Fryar is not
revered for his artistry, as much as for his function, as an extension, in a
strange way, of the town economy, of the church, of the community. Some of this
is clearly part of Fryar's philosophy. He calls the topiary garden a "ministry"
in an interview with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WfU2vzZrUho"><span style="color: blue;">ETV Road Show</span></a>. He talks about having a daily
congregation of tourists. Early on, Fryar says "It wasn't important to me
to create a garden. I wanted to create a feeling - that when you walked
through, you felt differently than you did when you started." So it's not
off the mark to depict Fryar as a man of God and the garden as a kind of
spiritual outlet and spiritual center that he wants people to have as a haven
of “Love, peace and goodwill.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then some of it, it
seems, likely just the sort of provincial outlook of a small, southern town.
The kind of place that still sees art as a little weird, that thinks largely in
terms of use and function. Clearly Fryar is accepted here because he is good for Bishopville.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Still, I am left a little
befuddled at how much face time the AME preacher gets in this
documentary. And though it makes sense that the Commerce Director is in the
film, they both contribute to a general feeling that Fryar is not an artist, as
much as he either, a commodity for the good of the town or someone just doing the work of the church. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI24oyUJ9CqO3garKEZYm5hCp26xIdRwS1xHAllMyKZKoTGdnDBG-Ki1d3y83tuy9QbIyY0BdbysJXPOi2KpT55hWTc9kdD4mKePM4yy38ifQv8oNDmEsi8F3RMPUqbXwhaUOI1LD2_M/s1600/pearl_big1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI24oyUJ9CqO3garKEZYm5hCp26xIdRwS1xHAllMyKZKoTGdnDBG-Ki1d3y83tuy9QbIyY0BdbysJXPOi2KpT55hWTc9kdD4mKePM4yy38ifQv8oNDmEsi8F3RMPUqbXwhaUOI1LD2_M/s320/pearl_big1.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></div>
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How he manages to thrive in
a town that does not give him much agency for his creations is honestly mind boggling
to me. And here, I start to feel the limits of my rather skeptical, nonchristian
ways. I hear something more in the subtext of some of this commentary that, maybe, isn't there at all. Places
where it seems like people are trying to minimize Fryar’s artistry, to take the
art out of his hands and attribute it to a divine inspiration that they all
share. After years of watching Fryar work "morning to night," a
neighbor says of the topiary garden, that it was great to see "the miracle
happening."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Granted, as I said, this is the perspective
of someone who doesn’t follow the church. But there is also a way in which I can
appreciate all the brothersisterly love put forth here, both by Fryar, and the
communion that others partake in, even if in taking strange credits for his work. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It just seems to be the way
things go. A kind of wild and willing faith. A kind of communion. And so, yes, a kind of love.</div>
francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-92001338789448370612012-11-27T14:58:00.004-06:002014-10-05T12:03:08.180-05:00Do You Think I'm Judgmental? <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Recently, some of my dear friends implied that I might be a bit judgmental. I was, of course, shocked and dismayed. Then I considered the sources of this strange accusation. And I had to decide whether or not they were judgmental people making these judgments about my judgmentalness. Then I decided that since I loved them dearly, it was ok that they might be so crude as to make such a horrendously erred and flawed conclusion about my personality. Then I considered whether or not I still loved them anyway, even though they might be erred and flawed. Because if I loved them, that must mean they're good people, (if erred and flawed) and if they're good people, maybe they might be right about the nature of my judgmentals. But, that thought was a little scary for me. So then I thought: Are they? Are they good people? How do I know? And then I thought about all the things I know about these people. Their various acts. And deeds. And accomplishments. And convictions. Their senses of humor. And their funny ways. And I thought about the way they walk. And the way they sit in a crowded room. From across the room. And I thought about what I think every time I see these people. The first thing that comes to mind whenever we meet. Then I decided. They're alright. They're pretty alright. Yeah, they're pretty good, alright people. Yeah, they're pretty great.</span>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-84062102540337177392012-11-03T14:10:00.000-05:002014-10-05T12:03:40.872-05:00Cynical. I think I mean Mildly Cynical.<div class="UFICommentContent" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0]" style="background-color: #edeff4; color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">
<div style="color: black; line-height: normal;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
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<b>My facebook status from yesterday: </b></div>
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</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">ifrancine ij iharris: </span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I commented on someone's 'mild cynic' recently and they thought I was being insulting. So I wrote to them: " I think a healthy cynicism is necessary. I believe you can stay optimistic in the face of pessimism, but I dislike rosey views and I dislike 'nice'ness and I dislike people who will do anything, sacrifice anyone, walk away fron anything, deny any form of difficult truth for teh sake of keeping everything 'kosher,' 'upbeat' or 'positive.' I mean I really dislike these people. Lol. I avoid them fervently.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So in order not to be this way - to be a real thinker, to be discriminating, to be honest - doesn't it require a certain amount of cynicism, of skepticism, of approach to any subject, any notion, any 'fact' with a discerning lens? The question for me is always 'What do I make of this?' not 'Does this make me feel good?'</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is maddening to some. And to those folks ... Ah well. We nod and wave in passing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mentioning your 'cynical' eye as part of your thought process is my sincere form of flattery.' </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">... and then I wanted to share my declaration with the world (of facebook).</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b>
<b>... in particular this response from my friend, Nick</b>: </span></div>
<div style="color: black; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a aria-controls="u44jztm1" aria-haspopup="true" aria-owns="u44jztm1" class="UFICommentActorName" data-ft="{"tn":";"}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=25804251" href="http://www.facebook.com/nick.gaudio" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][0]" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Nick Gaudio</a><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][1]"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]."><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[0]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[0].[0]">Ah, hell. Another try:</span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[0].[1]" /><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[0].[2]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[0].[3]">That people are self-interested is...well, an obvious point. However, cynicism seems to me an outright dismissal of all human interaction as self-interested and "base", flagging all Other Parties as potential threats regardless </span></span><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]."><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[0]">of fact or nuance or circumstance; whereas "discernment" or "shrewdness" allows for a broader scope of understanding of what self-interest can be or mean. </span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[1]" /><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[2]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[3]">Why are we having this conversation?</span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[4]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[5]">A cynic would say: "You're both trying to appear intelligent," (or something like that) condemning us to simplistic/animalistic impulses; people speak to publicly define self-worth in the Petri Dish of competitive Darwinism, whatever. Look how smart we are, opposite sex! Base urges, etc.</span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[6]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[7]">A shrewd person would say: "You're both probably trying to come to some understanding of some greater truth." Of course, that motivation is still in the arena of self-interest, but it smacks of a type of nobility that I hope, at least, is partially true. We're trying to make ourselves feel more assured about a unknown universe and there is some nobility in that. </span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[8]" /><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[9]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[10]">Not only that, but to constantly monitor the motivation of Other Parties is an implicit statement that one must -- out of necessity -- constantly monitor all Other Parties (for fear, I suppose, of one's own self-interested being infringed upon). What else is that but unproductive misanthropy? </span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[11]" /><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[12]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[13]">Let's say I have three sons and one steals money from my wallet. If I constantly monitor the other two sons, who have not ever (to my knowledge) stolen money, I'm wasting my time. To monitor, however, the thief-son is productive and shrewd. To monitor the other sons as if they are potential thieves is cynical. </span><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[14]" /><br id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[15]" /><span id=".reactRoot[1].[1][2][1]{comment10151126677051704_24582476}..[1]..[1]..[0].[0][2]..[3]..[16]">I'm in a bit of a hurry now, so this might not make much sense. I apologize but work calls, you know.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The gist of the whole conversation can be seen in my previous post, or by clicking here:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <a href="http://routyweed.blogspot.com/2012/11/dont-you-mean-skeptical-not-cynical.html">http://routyweed.blogspot.com/2012/11/dont-you-mean-skeptical-not-cynical.html</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dear Nick Gaudio,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your points are fine. I really love
that you (and others like Metta) hold integrity to the intended meaning of our
language. You are absolutely right, and I can concede this – that I may use, and
have been using, the word incorrectly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve had this argument before,
actually. And so I wonder why I hold to this word, why it means anything to me
at all, because if it had no meaning – I would entirely concede. I can be tied to my own “rightness,” but not to the
point of nonsense.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps I have opened a <i>box</i>, unintentionally. And to navigate this conversation … I have to be careful, and intentional.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did not intend to have a
conversation on my beliefs about the human species. I only meant to suggest
to my friend that his questioning nature (about life <b>and</b> about people -- and it’s our <i>attitude</i> about people's <i>motivations</i> that are central to the debate, here, I think) was a good thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then, Gaudio, you offered the word “skeptical”
or “shrewd” as possible replacements for what I mean to say. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So….I’ve been thinking about that.
Do I mean skeptical? Shrewd? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of connotations, I will say <i>shrewd</i> (to my mind) has more to do with
rhetoric and debate and argumentation – and, unfortunately, business and The
Market. Certainly part of what I mean, but not the totality. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Discerning</i>.
Yes, but this definition is not inherently about people and their motivations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me say here, that I think the
reason the definition must involve our considerations of others’ motivations,
is because I am thinking chiefly about the information we are given, the truths
we are offered, and about our ability to parse through that information to
consider <i>why</i> we’re being told things,
not just <i>how, </i>or even whether or not it
appears logical.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, it is here where I must be
careful, because I also recognize that I struggle with social “trust”. In fact,
I’ve been thinking lately about that word – <i>trust</i>.
What it means, ontologically. If it’s possible. If it has anything to do with
anyone else ultimately, or if it is chiefly about our desire for guarantees (a different,
but related, conversation).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Skeptical</i>:
Ok – but isn’t this just a softer version of <i>cynical? </i>Both definitions suggest the tentative approach, the
hesitation, the doubt – has to do with the motivations of others. So you know,
maybe what I see in the cynical part, that I admire, is the humor (not just sarcasm)
that can bloom from it. <i>Doubt humanity is on your side?? Well turn that frown
upside down. There’s always stand-up. </i>The Louis C.K. of it all – the Maria
Bamford mixtape.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, if you argue that this shit is
too heavy, too disparaging. Well yes, at times, yes it is. I love Doug Stanhope. I
wouldn’t really want to live with him. I also (in all honesty) worry about him.
I really worry about him and sometimes I just … hope he’s ok. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think people think that about me
sometimes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QsPDT5qHtZ4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not only do I believe that humanity
is on trial, I believe that most of us believe this. I don’t know what The
Trial is. I don’t know that it matters, really. We are a nervous species. We
are eternally damned to trying to figure out if we’re GoodEnough people while
balancing it with varying degrees of the WhatWeCanGetAwayWith-edness, the WhatWeShouldBeDoing-ness,
the WhatWe’re<i>Supposed</i>ToBeDoinged-ness.
The latter part of these equations depend on the person (and to what
degree they are entertained), but, I think, are always set against the morality part. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moral vs. Pleasure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moral vs. Purpose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moral vs. Intention. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moral vs. Truth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We are a nervous species.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The evidence of this is in our
culture itself, our marketing principles, our faith(s), our legal system. The
notion that your proverbial three sons ought to be innocent until proven guilty
is nothing more than a notion. The reality of your proposed analogy is that
human nature suggests the moment that one son steals something, the parent of
that son will ask the question about all her children – Are all my children
stealing? It is not to say that the next logical step then, is to punish all
those children – this would be cruel, paranoid, and pathological. However, the
next logical set of questions for her is not just <i>What I should do about this son? </i>but <i>How do I make sure none of my sons steal?</i> That child’s actions will
undoubtedly affect the way said parent goes about setting parameters for all
her children. And such, I imagine, is the nature of parenting, you try to deal
with what you instill in your children as you think to do it. You try not to be
reactionary (just dole out punishment when kids do bad shit), but to establish
some mode of preemptory guide. <i>I don’t
want my other two sons thinking this is acceptable behavior … </i>so you go
about <i>responding</i> to one in order to
consider the whole factor of the family’s behavior.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I believe that the reason we
are nervous, is because we prove, time and again, that we are capable of
awful behavior. Sometimes it’s out of stupidity. More often our awful behavior is
out of selfish motivation. And even beyond that – we prove time and again that
for all the beauty we are capable of, our moments of awful – have devastating
consequences. So that you can go through your whole life doing wonderful
things, and in one moment, one very horrible instant – ruin more than everything
you’ve worked your whole life at making beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s possible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The reverse – is really not true.
You can’t be a horrendous person your whole life and in one moment, with one
good deed, “undo” a reign of terror. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bombs take moments. Construction –
Weeks. Months. Years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now having said that I believe all
this – I have inherently, I suppose proven all of your points. Though I love
people, need them desperately, am ravaged by, amazed by, inspired by and moved
by people – I also live with this belief. And you’re right. It colors how I think.
Some days – it weighs heavily on me. And maybe, after all, I’m wrong. Maybe
this is the half empty, half full scenario.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I believe it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I also believe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That unless we are honest to
ourselves, about the damage that we are capable of doing. About the nature of
our selfish hearts, about our <i>tendency </i>(and
here, maybe is where I depart into your dreaded cynical category, and enter the
most debatable, contentious part of my thoughts on this) to be self-involving,
self-referencing, self-motivated, then we have no real way to have honest
discourse about what we are willing to do as compromise, what we <i>owe</i> ourselves as a functioning society,
what we <i>owe </i>each other in the face of
current reality, what we <i>owe </i>each
other <i>because</i> of our inherent
tendency toward self-motivation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So. For example. If we could be
honest about national health care coverage, we could discuss it without the
bullshit rhetoric. Nobody <i>really</i>
cares about the people we don’t know and their liver diseases. But we owe it to
ourselves as a functioning society to ensure that all of our citizens are,
minimally, healthy. The debt, to my mind, has to do with the debt we pay for having
the privilege to indulge (in a ‘free’ nation) our self-motivated spirits. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then sometimes I feel like our
bullshit thoughts about political systems stems from the fact that we are
unable as a species to admit that we are largely self-involved (and in this
context) <b>selfish</b> beings. If we could
admit that – if we had that healthy dose of skepticism (to use your word here),
maybe we could move on to the next conversation, instead of pretending like
there’s some moral high ground that most people will take in most situations
when the cameras are turned off and nobody is listening in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because the reality is – that shit
is entirely unpredictable. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All the rest of it is bullshit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This to me, has something to do
with the kind of cynical I mean to address in my comment. I am somewhat ….
curious, I guess, why folks have not noted that I modified the term itself. I
did not call my friend <i>cynical</i>. I did
not praise unmediated, rampant cynicism in his intellectual rigor. I used the
term “mild” for a reason. I said “mild cynic” for a reason. I mean to suggest
that it is one part of a complex, nuanced human spirit. The other part, I was
trying to say, has hope, is discerning (which is about facts and reason, less
so than it is about human intention), is skeptical (and maybe the difference
for me is a colder, more remote shrewdness), can be mildly cynical (appreciates
the darkness, the duende, the death of our eventual selfishness, the humor in
it, the bleak but beautiful, the eventual wind down, the Eternal<i>blahblahblah</i>, the Oh But Aren’t We All a
Little Damned, the morbidity of our daily actions <i>because</i> we are not coming out of this shit ok, and this is why –
cause we’re kinda’ fucked up). That’s
not skeptical. That’s … that’s cynical. I’m a little cynical. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I see that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s how I think about things.
And then – then I take my bike and ride real fast downhill by the river and
laugh at the fucking autumn leaves. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gaudio, you do, too. That’s why I
love you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s what we do in the face of it
all that I think we all mean to have hope about, here. So maybe there’s a
different word for what I mean. But I don’t know that word, exactly. I’ll keep
hearing suggestions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Right now, I’m saying “mildly
cynical”.</span></div>
francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-64129541253229803282012-06-15T23:53:00.000-05:002012-07-10T16:26:55.004-05:00Dear Borders<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsaSPmUxOkB1XgQBLXfVqyLB3PGuainnWxb-hLAftXmMRpiq24s1QS5_0ob0jptGrBFWZlQfIUbUyleLSrhMd_jkqghXpAqx0nYeQ3JMXn2GEsJdrSorxAVD2lS7O0k11CHFiX4o_Bdk/s400/011.jpg" width="400" /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear Borders:</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Passing by the building that is still
standing on Liberty in Ann Arbor after you folded, I couldn’t help but be
reminded of the old days when you were still open. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Perhaps the reminder would not be
so potent, if the empty buildings weren’t everywhere I go – lingering inside
Arborland on the Ypsi border with the letters being eventually chiseled away, skulking
outside Detroit in Dearborn with its scrapheap billboard. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If your stores were smaller, of
course, they would have already been turned into nail shops or Five Guy Fries or
TCF banks by now like the rea…I mean … like the independent bookstores that closed (you knew about those, right?) and I wouldn’t
be reminded of you so readily. But because of your zeal, whole city blocks now
lay empty. And I find myself pressed, with nose against the glass, staring at
the hideous shelving displays that you couldn’t sell at your final furniture
clearance -- 75% off still meant prices higher than ArtVan, and I find myself thinking of you. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So cheers to you, Borders ol’
buddy, ol’ pal. Here are ---- things I miss
about you, in no particular order. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss browsing your aisles and aisles of books and
not buying anything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss browsing your aisles of books to see what
I could order cheaper on Amazon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss browsing your aisles to see what I may
not be able to order cheaper from Powells Books, but could order and feel
better about myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Then I miss browsing your aisles and wondering
who you might have fired/killed/blacklisted for mentioning the word <i>union.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss browsing your books and buying coffee so I
could sit there longer ... and browse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss thinking about going to your stores and
then deciding to go the library instead.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss debating whether or not I could shoplift
some skinny poetry books and then deciding to go to the library instead.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss walking out on your horrible open mics
where you let people bring crappy amps and 4 string guitars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>I miss walking out on your ridiculous author
readings by local authors who wrote books like <i>Getting Downright Soggy In Your HydroPonic Herb Garden</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss playing Stump-the-Borders-Hipster by asking them about something they probably
hadn’t read – like a book.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss sitting down in the magazine aisle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">12)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss eavesdropping on the SciFi geeks. They were fun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">13)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss taking real books by Toni Morrison and Percival Everett out of the African
American Literature (read: Porn) and reshelving them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">14)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss dog-earing books I really wanted and convincing the Borders Hipsters Made
Manager to give it to me for at least 25% off. Rare. But fun to try, anyway.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">15)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss 40% Border Rewards coupons. That’s when you and I – well, shared.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">16)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
miss having you to blame for the fall of an independently literate nation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">17)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>I
do, though, really. miss your stationary, your internet, your coffee which was
pretty good, your air conditioning in the summer, your music listening stations.
And </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">18)<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>…did
I mention the browsing?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I guess all this to say, Old Fat Friend, maybe I resisted
your pleasant wall displays and uniform wood paneling too much. I found it so hard to
give you any money at all. Oh, but the rush of the Cheap Peruse and Scan. Now, I’m
paying the price, right? </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe it’s not that your eyes were
too big for your spine. Or that you made your millions and got bored. Maybe it’s
not that you are too indifferent to the communities you plowed through, (consistently
(somehow) moving in across the street from some little bookseller), to try and
use some of all that money you made to configure a survivalist strategy. No,
Borders, it was me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All me. All I really wanted you
for, was window dressing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sorry about that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Signed,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone Who Spent, Ultimately, A Few Hundred Bucks There
Anyway</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">francine j. harris</span></div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-22419170524689454982012-06-08T01:33:00.000-05:002012-06-16T00:30:21.422-05:00(over)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/9m0D0G1oC4c?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 2pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">whatever we take on, we do so to manage. to take underneath
our leaping. to show off to no one unusual. we do it to keep up. to make waves, to learn as we go along. we take this as tenuous. as
tentative. it is a blatant attempt to mimic. but then – also to complete. to mouth at
the other in device. in mechanic. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 2pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">we take our muscle and tuck it. sometimes, we ask advice.
more often, we need little impetus to bend with force. to mock ourselves. the day
passes by. and it’s amazing. not what happens – but what doesn’t happen. how
we move around one another, fiddling host of electrons remembering our locations
in proximity to other housings. to other cycles of motion. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br />on a good day, we make up the audience. sometimes,
accidental witness. sometimes, muse.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">on a bad day, we mean to elicit, to spark. or at least – to cast doubt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 2pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “And
then the second boot falls. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> And then a third, a fourth, a fifth.”</span></i><br />
<div align="right" class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: right; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">-</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Richard
Siken<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">this, though, is certain:
motion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> with or without agreement.</span>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-3911128338987422902012-03-21T00:19:00.000-05:002012-06-16T00:29:54.547-05:00nigger is not the scariest word<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmIFkCyDgpoRd0rD3HIoZG1OjLFfA3N-Rsph0MWeWqgH6qbj0D1o9LRu3wAb_FhiJUBEAkxQbUzuDW1Eyilb2rKWFoHGQ20Bqn_j9Wk0G8dUEIZxBrxipVvP4zKRFkD5f2oqQDCBPHM1g/s1600/niggerbama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmIFkCyDgpoRd0rD3HIoZG1OjLFfA3N-Rsph0MWeWqgH6qbj0D1o9LRu3wAb_FhiJUBEAkxQbUzuDW1Eyilb2rKWFoHGQ20Bqn_j9Wk0G8dUEIZxBrxipVvP4zKRFkD5f2oqQDCBPHM1g/s1600/niggerbama.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">lately, i feel niggerish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">i
feel so niggerly. so negra. niggata. so nigged, renignig, so niggly, so niggyniggy. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br />if
i had a big ass niggermelon</span> </span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">right
nigger-now</span> </span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">i'd
bust it wide open</span> </span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">sit
in its hull and throw big, wet pink nigger chunks at passing cars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;">i
need a nigger t-shirt. i wonder how i might go about tattooing <i>nigger </i>on
my face so that it might contour oh so subtly the bones of my phrenetic,
bombastic nigger skull.</span>.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="tab-stops: 320.6pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/T-jg2-2Fi6c?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">oh
but you misunderstand me. i don't mean i'm a dirty black.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="tab-stops: 320.6pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">none of us are black.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">nigger is not the scariest word.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">the
scariest word is <i>black. </i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">consider how
meaningless:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "there
was a pretty black girl in the row"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "
big, black girls singing at church"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> " young, black men
at the park"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />or
more conspicuous:</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "this big, black
dude" or</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "a
black guy was following me" or</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "some
black guy was asking for change"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> "this
black guy wanted to dance with me"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />the unnameable,
unamenable, coding and coding. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />signal, then: the worsening situation<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> the turn of events<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> the quirking of things. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"> the somehow black
somehow makes it all a little more…</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />black</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lIfmRUrx8FqKuN9iuSqz1iQUWikqT_U-bnCC2_Z-uDq29mdgAlp37TXboFJz00RSEgvSbtXDw_bWpc6f_Oe9ZfzXOghZ4Q70d-xmTrBoVyKKFKa92ulH_10G0ei5KYeETMh5xCzEzzg/s1600/nigger+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lIfmRUrx8FqKuN9iuSqz1iQUWikqT_U-bnCC2_Z-uDq29mdgAlp37TXboFJz00RSEgvSbtXDw_bWpc6f_Oe9ZfzXOghZ4Q70d-xmTrBoVyKKFKa92ulH_10G0ei5KYeETMh5xCzEzzg/s1600/nigger+mom.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">nigger, if you must know, i am terribly, incredibly, wonderfully brown</span></div>
</div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
</div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">like
most of us niggers.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">oh, but don't misunderstand me. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />i am a nigger.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />and nigger i'll claim until it means nigger-nothing. until
nigger-cows come nigger-home. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />niggernigger. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFogiGzUa6jQNvDQxunlgJuMi30EgkxPDNQWIiIzlk7cg5PshChwMxmBbGc49dvbpdPqgqB1yA3YEp8_fQFSnujpm9e7YpdTFWV1KvthHIGQU3JfhkEiE4_Zp7DZGfiqiny8Vrc6-e6WE/s1600/niggerhair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFogiGzUa6jQNvDQxunlgJuMi30EgkxPDNQWIiIzlk7cg5PshChwMxmBbGc49dvbpdPqgqB1yA3YEp8_fQFSnujpm9e7YpdTFWV1KvthHIGQU3JfhkEiE4_Zp7DZGfiqiny8Vrc6-e6WE/s320/niggerhair.jpg" width="289" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.blackhistory101mobilemuseum.com/#!page-6" target="_blank">Black History Mobile Museum</a>: </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br />this is all wrong. </span></span><br />
<div style="margin-left: 0.5in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br /><strong>nigger</strong>: <i>offensive slang</i>.
1.a. used as a disparaging term for a Black person. b. used as a disparaging
term for a member of any dark-skinned people. 2. used as a disparing term for a
member of any socially, economically, or politically deprived group of people.
[alteration of dial. <i>neger</i>, black person < Fr. <i>negre</i>, Sp. <i>negro.</i>See
NEGRO. ]</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br />let's try this instead.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br /><strong>nigger: </strong><i>slang. </i>1.a. Used as a derogatory
term for a person of African descent, e.g. "You are a nigger and we don't
hire niggers." 2a. Used as a term of endearment to reference a Black
person and how said Black person is seen in relationship to the rest of the
world, particularly in relationship to white people, or other fair skinned
people. e.g., "I'm all nigger, all day." 3a. Used as a sarcastic
epithet to refer to those instances where people of African descent act in ways
which are true to the stereotypes of people of African descent. "That
nigger is <i>always </i>late. It's embarrassing." 4a. A phrase that is
generally accepted (though debated and/or contested) in use by people who have
grown up among poor people, particularly black people and other people of
color, and is generally unaccepted and considered racist terminology when
spoken by whites, or people who have not endured the average socioeconomic
difficulties of black and dark-skinned races, globally, particularly as those
who have experienced socially, economically, or politically deprived
conditions. (NOTE: It is not enough to have lived among black people for 2 or 3
years as a college student.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />i am a nigger all day, all the time. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />but i'm not your nigger, of course.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />i'm my own nigger. sick of the nigger. so sick and nigged of
nigger.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;"><br />i'm this nigger that is all / beyond / surrounding /
everything that's anything we niggers have left.</span></div>
</div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-84582262782092907632012-02-28T13:15:00.000-06:002012-02-28T13:15:49.421-06:00AWP Readings/Appearances<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thurs, March 1 Black Don't Crack 8:30 - 10:00 p.m.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chicago
Cultural Center<br />
78 E. Washington Street </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hosted
by Roger Bonair-Agard & Mahogany L. Browne<br />
<br />
<b><i> Featuring Poets:<br />
</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Roger Bonair-Agard * Mahogany L. Browne
* Aricka Foreman * Jonterri Gadson </span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">
* francine j. harris * Randall Horton * Saeed Jones * Dasha
Kelly * Airea D. Matthews </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> John Murrillo * Metta Sáma * Nicole
Sealey * Danez Smith * Marcus Wicker</span> </div>
</span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fri, March 2 Reading and Book Signing</b> with other Made in Michigan authors<br /> at Wayne State University Press Table at the Bookfair</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> Booth #722 11:00 a.m.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Sat, March 3 Speaking in Tongues 9:00-10:15 a.m.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">S121. Speaking in Tongues<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">(Sandra M. Yee, Tarfia Faizullah, francine j. harris, Henry W. Leung, Milta Ortiz)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Red Lacquer Room, Palmer House Hilton, 4th Floor<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">In this panel of rising young artists, each writing inside two or more languages and/or cultures, we examine how we see ourselves pushing against literary and cultural traditions. How do we challenge our assimilation into the English language? To whom do we owe our allegiance as writers? Who is our audience? Whether code-switching or speaking in ancestral tongues, how do we act as representatives of our cultures? And in an increasingly globalized society, how do we embrace or shun these roles?</span></i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Other Times </b>Roaming around the Bookfair and having StaringContests and </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
TakingInPoems and dancing
at DanceParties and drinking IntermittentVodkas.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***</div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-46722238315169075892012-02-06T13:45:00.000-06:002012-02-06T13:45:19.362-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Dad,</div>
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<br /></div>
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The way you would hover in the attic and watch the neighborhood. Me coming home, or changing my mind about coming home, or talking on the stoop outside our yard. Some of them didn't want to go home. The way we lingered on that curb. Throned the fire hydrant, half swung our weight on the branches of the tree you planted, which was too young then to swing from. The passing fire trucks. The low riders. The old men with carts of wood and the younger men with boxes of copper. The mail carriers that rushed through on a quick foot. The people who thought of knocking, then thought better of it. The women with grocery bags, some of them with a limp. The young ones with their magic markers and cheap cans of spray paint. The little kids on tricycles with six house boundaries, moving past their marks. The birds and the fat, brown squirrels. The possums lingering with hung tails on the leaning fence. The hang of your music through the screen. How you blew filterless smoke through the open breeze.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Your windows have rubbed off on me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Always.</div>
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<br /></div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-34613394768745800262011-10-05T07:47:00.000-05:002011-10-05T10:23:49.976-05:00SuperStein<br />
You know that old joke that goes: <i>You know who you look like? </i>
<br />
<i>Gertrude Stein.</i><br />
<br />
That's the only thing
I've ever heard about her. That and <i>feminist. </i><br />
<br />
And that's it. The buck stops at <i>feminist.</i> <br />
<br />
Feminist: (noun/adjective) anyone without a penis who does whatever the fuck she
wants to do. <br />
<br />
I'm not saying I have enjoyed her readings, exactly. Though I'm more intrigued, now.<br />
<br />
Mostly, I'm marveling at the lack of
conversations that make it to the tables I've occupied. In the way of superheroes - whose story does and
doesn't get told over brew and poem talks. The history that doesn't make it to
my ear. This, of course, is my fault. I never looked her up. I've relied on too
much word of mouth. Her visitations with the GI's reminds me of
Johnny Cash and his travels to prisons. And Cash was a cowboy, wasn't he. (Though I don't think he ever had a horse.) Stein's venerable guitar was just a
host of words coiled around words. Nouns, mostly. As she might put it. Nouns
broken down into repetitions of more nouns to poem the nouns. That, and
apparently, she threw a great cocktail party.<br />
<br />
There's nothing terribly sexy about nouns. Or repetition. We like to imagine
the poetic zorro (with penis) as a wielder of complex newness-es that do
nothing over again. With a vocabulary that nears science, and their complicated
grammatic structures, they twirl rhythms and mind-splitting anacronisms with
ease. Who ride off into the proverbial sunset and leave behind them a trail of
shadowy phrasings (no one can quite remember how they put it, so deft) panting
vixens, pretty homebodies and (we know, though not part of this iconic sketch)
snotty-nosed timesucks, whom at least have history to look forward to. <br />
<br />
<i>I am the daughter of an Artist. He went off to the world to vex the
masses with his witty tongue. I was quite young. I am over the hurt. And have
his legacy, which lives on in my blood.</i><br />
<br />
Meanwhile, Stein had her tongue stuffed into Alice B. Toklas. For life.
Collected artworks and amassed even more money that kept her family in happy food, and famous artistic circles, and kept her pen to
paper. Not terribly sexy I guess. <br />
<br />
Prince has a song called "Joy of Repetition", which as much as I like it, does contribute to the reason why I
liken him to the Spike Lee's of the world - their image of chicks
as a one-way looking glass. Saying: <br />
<br />
<i>Love me. Love me. Love me. (She said) Love me. </i>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-80142001491546384542011-09-23T11:09:00.001-05:002011-09-23T11:44:30.293-05:00Skunk<br />
There is a dog down the block who is off its leash. I've been trying to train
my cat to come outside, now that I have a front yard, but to stay around the
house. <br />
<br />
Critters want to chase things though. And a wayward squirrel will send him
reeling into the street. It scares me. There is so much roadkill here in this
green town full of trees and pretty spiders. I don't know what's become of me.
But I rarely kill critters anymore. I put out the spiders. I've even taken to
jarring the smaller centipedes and putting them outside in the grass. <br />
<br />
The other night, I saw something dark in the road and veered. Then it moved
and I stopped. Let it pass. Tiny skunk. Making its way across the, then, empty
Jackson Road. Busy street by day. Its bristly head down, it skulked off to the
other side of the street. I wonder how many people stop for critters. I know
sometimes you can't stop. But I wonder who does or doesn't stop, even when they
can. Sometimes, I've stopped, instinctively, and almost been hit from behind.
<br />
<br />
Critters don't understand the curb. The road. The cool of the hardened tar
must feel good on their bellies, because they lounge there. <br />
<br />
And those bellies, undone, is what you see, everyday, leftover in the road. Turned
inside out. Mangled. Juice red. Pummeled to inedible meat. Dogs litter the
highways and I wonder if someone loved them.<br />
<br />
People complain about the smell of skunk here. It often smells like skunk. I
kind of like it. A sign of defense. Of awareness. The smell is a lot like weed,
actually. And I actually hate the smell of weed. But the dense reek of skunk
takes up the sky. Is larger than their timid bodies. <br />
<br />
Lingers long after they've hidden themselves away, where nothing can get to
them. francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-46086772765080197592011-08-09T04:50:00.000-05:002011-08-10T00:22:57.753-05:00boat rideand then you are gone.<br />
<br />
it's coming up on that point when you and i would have talked by now, unless you were out of the country, or in between places, or recording. or just didn't talk. or just didn't run into each other. or just didn't. but then it's coming up on that time, where one of us would have called to say, <i>why haven't i seen you in like forever. </i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXMnMh61Xg25DiJ_Ed6rpcjKklRpliKuc8S3I-cSM_2osZvG-dr1bQ5hKU60ijoGgsM9rUpjab6peseC5p5LpECGiBSX8OFst3wPxgb-BoSVQfdYqEoV0H_dHkSB3iKOC9XbgGMVHGIg/s1600/Lemonade_Detroit-8069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXMnMh61Xg25DiJ_Ed6rpcjKklRpliKuc8S3I-cSM_2osZvG-dr1bQ5hKU60ijoGgsM9rUpjab6peseC5p5LpECGiBSX8OFst3wPxgb-BoSVQfdYqEoV0H_dHkSB3iKOC9XbgGMVHGIg/s320/Lemonade_Detroit-8069.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Blair, photo by David Lewinski</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
people don't really know what to do for you when you're grieving. there's not much that can be done, really. but sometimes it's just nice to have someone sit with you. i remember the summer after my father died, which was not long after my mother died, and i broke up with my boyfriend of a few years (who was also a close friend of yours. i never told you how much i appreciated you being objective about things.). and things were heavy with me. probably the heaviest they've ever been.<br />
<br />
and one sunday you dragged me out of the house to go on a riverboat ride with a progressive church group headed by a queer pastor that you were playing music for. and i remember you played a tom waits' gospel song for the church group. and i'm pretty sure you also played "when the saints go marching in", and i hope i'm not just thinking that because they played it at your memorial, and the whole boat rocked with you and everybody sang and it was so loving. and then we ate spaghetti out of aluminum serving tubs. and we took the salad and chicken wings, and it tasted warm in the heart, the way church food made by church ladies always tastes. and i remember after the crowd dispersed and people went back to sit with their families, and i stared out over the detroit river and you stared out with me for awhile. and then we just looked at each other for a long time. and i finally said "my mother always wanted me to go on one of these boatrides with her, but i wouldn't go with her because i thought they were cheesy. i'm really regretting that right now." and you didn't say anything for awhile. we just kept looking at each other and out at the water. and then finally, you laughed real hard. and you said "they are kind of cheesy."<br />
<br />
and we laughed for a long time and then just kept watching the river go by.<br />
<br />
thank you for that day, my friend. thank you for so many days like it.<br />
<br />
i miss you so much.francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-86105018099440437782011-07-18T18:17:00.000-05:002011-07-18T18:17:52.948-05:00graduationwithout them, my voice feels soggy. i want to bring them home from their vacations - water skiing, cayman islands, mountaineering, down south relatives, cruise ships, beachsides, peopleless cabins, walking the dogs, grooming the parrokeets, driving just driving, french teashops, patisserie romping. i want them back in the classrooms ...<br />
<br />
...demanding more of more of more of me.<br />
<br />
graduation has not been easy. <br />
<br />
<br />francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-56186749199182120072011-04-04T08:48:00.000-05:002011-04-04T08:48:54.640-05:00I miss being told to fuck off in bible lingo...You know what I miss about Detroit today?<br />
<br />
People telling me to "Have a Blessed Day" when what they really mean to say is "You're a worthless piece of shit who even Jesus has to work at loving and who is really not worth anybody's time, particularly my own...so fuckyou."<br />
<br />
Y'all know what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
How it's pronounced "Have a Blesst Day!" How <i>Blesst </i>and <i>Day </i>are both given the same amount of emphasis. So if you were to scan it...you would get:<br />
<br />
/ - / /<br />
Have a Blesst Day! <br />
<br />
A trochaic opening with a great spondee finish! What better way to tell someone off with Christian altruistic flare. The perfect resolution to any argument. To any altercation that might otherwise inspire hostilities, or rile a good old-fashioned, secular beatdown. Such conflicts are surrendered to the lyric of the emergency-glass blessing.<br />
<br />
"Oh, you gonna' interrupt me while I'm still talking? You have a Blesst Day!" which ends conversation. Have a Blesst Day <i>always </i>ends conversations that might otherwise get out of divinely inspired control.<br />
<br />
"I don't think you know who you're talking to. Have a Blesst Day!" ...<br />
<br />
...and scene.<br />
<br />
Ah, home sweet home.francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-24845501078954181162011-03-29T00:46:00.000-05:002011-03-29T00:46:19.806-05:00now showing: david wojnarowicz's "fire in the belly"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/RM_80zif-5w/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RM_80zif-5w&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RM_80zif-5w&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-74214695735594637122011-03-19T14:18:00.000-05:002011-03-19T22:32:53.109-05:00Sometimes you're already gone.I wonder if there's a word for feeling like the world has shrunken down into something the size of a peephole. Suddenly takes on the sound of a chattering television - only the way that chattering sounds in film. Or the way radio sounds on television. A medium of a medium.<br />
<br />
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It's kind of like looking through the wrong end of the binoculars. But from above. Everything feels small and moves just a clip faster than normal. It's all unimportant. All the decision we make - Jesus, we make so many decisions on a daily basis, and we think they're so fucking crucial. So critical to something that will change the course of history, ecology, theology.<br />
<br />
Through the peephole, you can't even see these decisions. Not only can't you see them, but you can't even see the people or places or animal that all these crucial decisions impact. It's a mission from above. Everything is a blur of color, crowding around itself like microscopic germ clusters on a smear.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Am I dissociating? Sometimes I wish it would last longer. It lasts an hour, two. I guess if it did last any longer it might be formula for sociopathy. I wonder if this is what the world looks like to someone with no feeling. That would suck, too. But it is nice to be able to detach though, to pull back, to feel so less tortured about every little thing in your head.<br />
<br />
Then you come back to big life in regular slow-motion. And even your dreams take on the big-life form of being carjacked and trying to negotiate with the guy in the driver's seat. Trying to come up with a good reason why he shouldn't take the most basic machine you depend on. And then you're on his little side of the binoculars. Futile. Small. Laughable.francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5963370196618785963.post-85980294267106626522010-12-27T15:56:00.000-06:002010-12-27T15:56:42.587-06:00put my poem in water<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/gYY2uvN87f4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>francinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07498915128085867246noreply@blogger.com0