Monthly Archives: November 2004

a study in miniature

I have writer’s block. Or, not writer’s block exactly, because I can still write. I can always write. But I’m bored with my own writing — as I’m writing it. I find it even more boring when I read it. … Continue reading

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strange men knocking loudly late at night

You just know when someone is handing you a subpoena. OK, you don’t know at first, when you hear the loud pounding on your door late at night, and you peer through the peephole and see a scary guy in … Continue reading

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Someone, somewhere else, suggested a collaboration of journals for which everyone writes about snow. I’ve been sitting here thinking about snow, and the stories are like chips — I can’t think of just one. The memories aren’t exactly like chips … Continue reading

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