eliot and the evening

one of the foibles of being a copy editor is that your deadline is king, and so your social life sometimes falls by the wayside. being at a weekly, i get to work during the day like a normal person, but on thursday, our production day, outside life is put on hold ’til the paper…

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for you, specifically

this is a poem for you the reader who chooses to wade through my writing like a guppy caught in a school of piranhas i wish i could see you reading observe what makes you smile or shake your head and abandon me for something else if we sat down to coffee together (mine is…

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wednesday recap

tunage: a good day, by priscilla ahn thing of the day: paul mitchell tea tree lavender mint shampoo today, my friends, was a day rife with many opportunities to learn or otherwise practice patience.  and oh dear, sometimes i am not very patient at all.  so i guess it was good that God had the…

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prolonging the obvious

we do odd things to our language in our squeamishness about death.  i was reading the new york times online today and an obituary headline caught my eye: “andrew wyeth, revered and ridiculed artist, dies.” oh he does, does he?  i wasn’t aware that death could be an ongoing process for an individual.  you might…

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syllable is self-explanatory

be incomprehensible for the sake of being misunderstood and reinterpreted according to the popular mythology of the vitamin-depleted social stream of unconsciousness the anorexic waif-eyed wastrels will praise wandering works giving too-deep explanations of obfuscated meaning oh life is beautiful and love is a rare infusion of feeling not pretentious as e.e. cummings but still in lowercase and…

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all aflunters

from the bookshelves: the word museum by jeffrey kacirk this book is pretty cool. it’s full of odd, quaint and queer old words that most (“normal”) people don’t use anymore. being such, it gave me the perfect word to describe the shrubbery also known as my hair: aflunters. kacirk says it means “in a state of disorder.” yep,…

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the mundanity of profundity

i find myself amused (and somewhat embarrassed) when others think my writing amazing or profound or great or any other laudatory adjective honestly i don’t understand because to me it’s just writing it’s like breathing agonizingly setting my heart down on paper everyone was created with a heart everyone is a soul in possession of…

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artist’s medium

sometimes   i  wonder  whether               i    startle  people   staring    unfocused                through                        or  behind  them they    don’t    understand         that my words won’t                      come                 and   they        serve    as   walking  clay             to mold                  and  speculate  over                         i   am    sorry      if  i  have  disconcerted  you              but  it is nothing                   personal        you   have    become …

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