Monthly Archives: March 2007

april

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised … Continue reading

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read me the signs; tell me my fortune

I collect fortunes, the kind in cookies with stock words of hope and wisdom that always work better in bed. I don’t mean to collect them. I don’t mean to believe in signs or be superstitious or have any faith … Continue reading

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sometimes i just want to be pretty

I’m having kind of a bad day, a day when I need to be strong. And I haven’t been doing a great job of it. In fact, I’ve been failing miserably. And I’m normally so good at the strong thing. … Continue reading

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attack the fire if possible

I should be working right now. Lord knows I have a lot to do. Too much to do. A crushing avalanche of todoness that threatens to bury me beneath its suffocating, all-encompassing grip. But instead, I’m wondering at the sign … Continue reading

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what’s this internet addiction of which you speak?

In another airport. I’m starting to like the airports, really. Maybe it’s like that thing that happens with kidnapping victims when they fall in love with their kidnappers and they fight against all odds, the police, and a world that … Continue reading

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sometimes writing about words requires run-on sentences

I love poetry. I rarely read it and I absolutely can’t write it, but I love so much about it. It relies on an efficiency of language than can be breathtaking. (That is, good poetry. Bad poetry just makes me … Continue reading

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the challenge of tomorrow

Childhood is cruel. I don’t mean all the usual ways, although those are cruel too. I mean how everyone tells you that you can do anything you want, and even worse, how you have all this potential — this newly … Continue reading

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my other journal

I was talking to a friend that other day about my paper journal and what I write there rather than here. And by journal, I really mean journals, since I have lots of them, scattered everywhere. Paper is a kind … Continue reading

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for all the time we have to spend here, you’d think the airport terminal would play better music

I had a very odd feeling this morning. I stepped into a cab, and something seemed wrong. Like the cab was off-kilter or something. And then I had the following three thoughts in rapid succession: The driver is sitting on … Continue reading

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