tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174338382012-02-16T07:34:42.972-08:00keys to the city of uneasesublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.comBlogger1691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-28051213700980943632010-07-12T18:38:00.000-07:002011-09-18T10:22:07.460-07:00

My people relished the destruction of beautiful things. We knew the malice of the buttercup squash. The stubbornness of the root cellar only made them more determined. My sister was a frizzled buff of celebrity annulments. Eventually something worse got the better of her and off she went down the frontage road wearing nothing but a Kia Spectra. It took me years to break in the stiff sentences my

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-54960122569215351722010-07-12T17:52:00.000-07:002011-09-18T10:22:18.839-07:00

I used to be a man without hunches, for a while hunchlessness was my bread and butter, and now I've swung all the way the other way. I don't remember deciding to head in a hunchful direction. But I must have, it couldn't have been a hunch after all. And another thing. Don't they require cultivation, some degree of development over time? You don't just wake up one morning in possession of hunches,

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-42115295319039122862010-07-11T21:18:00.001-07:002010-07-11T22:42:55.996-07:00

Looking at some cookbooks these days. This one here utilizes a suspicious amount of ketchup. I read the recipes in order, I don't jump around like most people. I like to be introduced to an ingredient for the first time and then delight in running into it again in later chapters. When you look at a cookbook you must cap your gushing fantasies, which can so easily spurt out of control. A new life

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-89272657651416748482010-07-11T08:42:00.000-07:002010-07-11T11:38:31.797-07:00

Among so many things I am, I am also quite the aficionado of the Craigslist sex ads. I never answer them, and I am usually afraid to look at the photographs. I mean I could answer them, I'm perfectly capable of answering them, I'm as sex-positive as I can be without succumbing to irreversible queasiness, and I like getting crabs as much as the next guy, or getting beaten and robbed at knifepoint,

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-13392310650069578732010-07-10T18:18:00.000-07:002010-07-10T18:42:21.747-07:00

I smolder when I see coins lying around just anywhere. Any coins. First, I hate loose change, second there's a bowl. I mean what is the purpose of even having the bowl. Efforts to rid the country of pennies are thwarted by the penny factions, what chance does my dream of a coin-free world have? And others like me. Paper money can stay. I'm not crazy about it for germ reasons but it can stay for

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-67042242542746901702010-07-10T11:03:00.000-07:002010-07-11T08:30:50.797-07:00

Someday (but really never) I'll write the definitive study of dogs in Tarkovsky. Of course there's the dog in the famous last shot of Nostalghia. But the dog in Stalker is in more scenes.Another thought on Stalker. Forget personality tests, forget the opinion of friends and colleagues. Worthless! The world learns something genuine about your personality when it discovers whether or not you laugh

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-80630384443012761002010-07-10T07:55:00.000-07:002010-07-10T08:10:43.724-07:00

The years of living dangerlessly, previously discussed, have not diminished my fret capacity. Last night there was a concern about the refrigerator. First the light went out, never a neutral observation, no less disorienting than darkness at noon. The emotion made me chew my lip. Then, in the midst of this cushiony heat, heat you could recline in and be carried down the road, the motor was heard

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-5810055816972251232010-07-09T20:46:00.000-07:002010-07-09T21:08:05.793-07:00

In old movies and TV shows, people change clothes at various times of the day, depending on what they've been doing or what they're about to do, or for no apparent reason other than it's fun to change, to feel surrounded by a different garment, or for the sake of observers and their scrutinies. I've never once in my life changed clothes unless I had to, for instance because of moisture or filth

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-83424927629919416422010-07-09T15:36:00.000-07:002010-07-09T16:00:16.172-07:00

Clothes moths in the bedroom. What a clumsy name, clothes moths. Better than wasp nests. They're tiny and brown and shimmer in the light. It's the larvae you need to kill. I read all about the life cycle. The egg attaches to carpet fibers with a sort of dreadful glue ball, making it difficult to vacuum. The egg hatches, the larva eats the carpet, or other nearby organic material. We have bald

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-61369590877757268732010-07-08T14:48:00.001-07:002010-07-08T15:15:44.703-07:00

I'm not sure I can call what I've been doing "meditating." These are the first tentative efforts. I am an acutely self-conscious person. I have been known to bolt upright from a particularly disturbing and perverse dream, fearful that someone saw me dreaming such a thing. The book keeps mentioning my nostrils. I am not accustomed to my nostrils being the focus of sustained attention, much less

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-76190220646350587232010-07-08T07:50:00.000-07:002010-07-08T07:56:27.132-07:00

It's 7:50AM and I am going to meditate, as soon as I post this. The house is quiet. The birds are loud but the house is quiet. My cat has not yet begun to do that thing. One of my favorite words is insofar. I'd like to see a Chinese restaurant called In So Far. I love the way it looks, the meaning, the mouth feel, the downhill rush of it. Those of us who love words should remember to keep it

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-79213329893196640592010-07-07T08:42:00.001-07:002010-07-07T09:21:20.187-07:00

What are the dominant themes of your life? We've learned that everyone has dominant themes. If you're told something enough times eventually you will work it into your mental categories, since the mind is weak. Plus we love narratives, apparently. I don't, but in some way I must, since I'm one of us. We love to say we're this or that sort of person. Otherwise intelligent people will suddenly

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-4238988395100271162010-07-06T13:43:00.000-07:002010-07-06T14:16:04.792-07:00

I still have my wisdom teeth, and at this point in my so-called journey through life it's unlikely I'll ever need them removed. I have a large mouth, there's room for everyone in there. I could probably handle someone's else's wisdom teeth in addition to my own. It doesn't look so big from the outside but once you're in you'll marvel at the spaciousness. I tend not to gape but if I did it'd be

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-64958753258839083162010-07-06T10:50:00.000-07:002010-07-06T10:52:29.413-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-10482067503566076542010-07-06T09:41:00.001-07:002010-07-06T10:48:41.396-07:00

One of the benefits of having a blog is the ease with which you can look over past entries to find out precisely what sort of monster you are, or what breed of angel, rather than having to rely on imprecise measures such as the emotion-clouded reports of loved ones and the notoriously unreliable but numbingly frequent self-evaluations one is given to when one has as much free time as I have and

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-30508705637033410362010-06-20T19:27:00.000-07:002010-06-20T21:07:00.414-07:00

Every Father's Day I consider making contact with my dad, who lives warmly abroad with his subsequent wife. We have not spoken or listened to each other in twenty years by reason of benign positional drift. At least I think it's benign. I remember softly exhaling gratitude for his shruggish indifference upon being informed of the general butt of my lust's humor. I don't even really have anything

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-62954098866455261832010-06-19T22:12:00.000-07:002010-06-19T23:37:17.943-07:00

The other day someone died flying a kite. Not much else to tell regarding that one, other than to say that I am vindicated in my avoidance of kites. It makes me queasy to be connected to something so high. My legs start to shiver. I've been following this other case, a missing uncle. There's been an emerging pattern of missing uncles throughout the Pacific Northwest, going back to the early 70s,

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-56023832171558907342010-06-11T21:13:00.000-07:002010-06-12T23:11:23.998-07:00

I recently had a birthday, and along with the gifts of finest silk and international cheeses, I was visited by the ghouls of time. You know that thing older people say, that as you get older the years simply fly by? Surprisingly, it's true. Just a short (or long) time ago, it slipped my mind that the 2000s occurred. The decade, not the century. Whatever we decided to call that decade, that one. I

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-40223490208098727072010-06-07T04:23:00.001-07:002010-06-07T04:24:58.340-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-61875596973559074372010-06-07T01:03:00.000-07:002010-06-07T02:03:01.195-07:00

I'm easy on the eyes except when I'm sitting on your face. Well, I'm easy on the eyes in the sense that I don't emit blinding radiation that might damage your retinas. I am not an attractive person, in the usual sense. I am not an attractive person in any unusual senses either. I am offbeat looking, there is a puffy aspect, a suggestion of just having awoken from a lengthy coma during which the

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-46198069491948673832010-05-31T03:11:00.000-07:002010-05-31T04:29:57.029-07:00

I learned that it's medically inadvisable to take Benadryl every night for the duration of one's life. This is a problem because I need it to sleep. I used to take it for hay fever, but there are more powerful and non-sedating drugs for that. So I take other drugs for my allergies and good old Benadryl to make me fall asleep. But it turns out there are warnings, there have been studies, etc. The

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-50572986090192017632010-05-19T06:24:00.000-07:002010-05-19T06:29:10.980-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-83489637567625302882010-03-30T20:55:00.000-07:002010-03-30T21:37:47.861-07:00

I'm working on my compassion, which is lacking. I'm not certain it's lacking, it's hard to tell. It's always hard to tell with emotions whether you feel them deeply enough, or often enough, or the right way, or whether what you think of as this or that emotion is what other people think it is. So I'm making a somewhat educated guess about my relative lack of compassion. It's not that I don't like

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-90872360818863289052010-03-26T01:01:00.000-07:002010-03-26T02:12:01.079-07:00

We were at a show. We thought we had it all worked out, we go to a lot of shows after all, we know when bands tend to start, all the factors that go into it (day of the week, venue, what kind of bands are involved). It's not complicated. Nothing I know is complicated. What a horrible thing to realize. There's not one complicated, difficult to learn activity that I know how to do. Everyone should

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-49812321894302246592010-03-17T03:01:00.000-07:002010-03-17T05:06:51.629-07:00

I had to dig through some cartons of personal stuff to find my birth certificate. For the department of motor vehicles, and I don't even drive. Of course one always lingers over snapshots, reads old correspondence and so on. Birthday cards, love letters. Promises, promises. My god the 90s sucked. Nothing but blind alleys and pointless compromises. I'm completely over the two long relationships

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-40072557419541433672010-03-16T19:45:00.000-07:002010-03-17T02:09:09.706-07:00

I'm intermittently obsessed with missing persons cases. I scour the websites devoted to chronicling mysterious disappearances. Each has a focus. I prefer the cases of young men. Not necessarily because they're men but because so many of the cases of missing girls or young women end up being rape/murder cases, which is a downer and unfortunately so common. There's no eeriness there, depressing but

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-72559714102788247722010-03-16T00:06:00.000-07:002010-03-16T00:47:27.578-07:00

In a lather. I live the most peaceful life. Peaceful, calm, anonymous in a good way. Yet I get worked up, because of my mind. I hate my cat, whom I once loved. When I realized I hated him I felt better, but then I felt worse. Then I told someone I hated him, which made me feel better, only once again to feel worse, later. Writing it all now, to be known to strangers, makes me feel worse

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-61203373078832151032010-03-11T00:43:00.000-08:002010-03-11T01:26:25.607-08:00

It's March, I still cling to my secret resolutions. Officially I'm against them, like all right-thinking people are, you know, our kind of people. But secretly I make them every year, I take them very seriously, and in the end I fail to adhere to any of them. Last year I said I didn't make any but that was a lie. I shouldn't lie so much. If you're waiting to hear what mine were well just forget

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-21923427181546255402010-03-08T18:02:00.000-08:002010-03-08T18:25:12.660-08:00

I'm back in a big way. I'm huge. I'm plugging in, I'm connecting, don't miss out. Grab a couple of sani-wipes because I'm about to come on your screen. Have you heard of this thing called Twitter? I'm getting in early before someone takes my name or even my face. I'm an early adopter, just like with dogs. Brief blasts of sentence. The sentencing is scheduled. And could URLs be tinier? The world

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-40809978431831789592009-08-18T01:16:00.000-07:002009-08-18T06:24:26.535-07:00

Fish ladders, grain elevators. Up, up, up. I am always complaining that people should stay home more and sit quietly, not strive so much, not clump. Clumping leads to strife or agreement, either of which leads to trouble. I like to stay in and organize the binders and scrapbooks my collections would be in if I had collections. The management of a large collection like mine might someday be, or

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-70465621611650424312009-08-11T02:14:00.001-07:002009-08-11T02:38:19.100-07:00

I am a creature of serene repose, now that I have a new reading chair in my study. It's a recliner. Postures of tranquillity are now obtainable at a moment's notice. Thomas De Quincey writes about taking opium and staring out the window from dusk to dawn without moving. If he had this chair he could do that without the opium. I'd rather have the opium than the chair. I will trade my new chair for

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-52282030403766423452009-08-10T04:46:00.000-07:002009-08-10T07:00:37.788-07:00

Here comes me. I am so forcefully present in my own blog, don't you think? After a long absence I come roaring back in all my alarming vividness to re-inhabit this derelict rectangle. Suddenly the stale air in here whips around me and my coat of many colors. How authentic I am, how robust in appearance and demeanor. I live. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective surface, like a

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-90745878172477016892009-05-27T05:03:00.000-07:002009-05-27T05:05:00.232-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-31889996188708173802009-05-27T02:25:00.000-07:002009-05-27T04:38:09.309-07:00

Have I explained to you my theory of time? We're such good friends. I love you so much, in my own way. How intimate we've become, what with you reading my blog and all and my not knowing who you are. My theory of time is only for my very closest friends. I'm not going to print up leaflets and stand on a corner like a lunatic, downtown across from the public library. It came to me in a moment of

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-19403947169835047212009-05-20T02:57:00.000-07:002009-05-20T06:13:15.520-07:00

A long time ago I lived in New Haven, Connecticut for a few years, while my boyfriend was in grad school. What a shithole town. I worked at a bookstore, in the basement, opening cartons all day alongside a crotchety old bag and a chatty middle-aged dullard, and I made minimum wage and saw no interesting future for myself. Worst of all I had really ugly glasses. I knew I'd made a terrible mistake

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-59532493175085718232009-05-16T03:36:00.000-07:002009-05-16T04:27:05.348-07:00

Most things are seeming hilarious to me at the moment, except for the things that are terrifying. Of course one sometimes laughs at oneself in the midst of terror. There you are curled up in your regular ball of an evening and suddenly the comedy of existence moves through you like a shudder. My terrors are often comical, I'm the first to admit it. Some of my terrors strike me as funny, or my

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-37994358019681203232009-05-06T05:28:00.000-07:002009-05-06T06:53:10.378-07:00

I can hear those damn birds. Birdsong can be irritating. The mute objects of my study are just about to tell me something when those pre-dawn birds start in with their twittering. They don't sound like they mean it. It's not even light out. It's close, the sickening light is that close. I hate how inevitable morning is. There's a grinding, idiotic quality to it. People should all have to agree to

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-50598428628389500382009-04-29T03:27:00.001-07:002009-04-29T04:15:03.247-07:00

Did you know that a spiral galaxy, skillfully thrown with a whip of the wrist, can take your head clean off? I often imagine committing murder, and not just with vast astronomical entities. It's relaxing to know you can kill someone if you really want to. Stab them repeatedly. Everyone is capable of murder. This ability is a birthright, like getting a library card. There is a murderer for every

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-47300152468699245922009-04-24T21:16:00.001-07:002009-04-24T21:18:45.581-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-43497471415605068272009-04-21T17:56:00.001-07:002009-04-21T21:14:10.351-07:00

I had a dream in which I was sitting in a wing chair, a rather ridiculous, grandmotherish wing chair, not like the notorious wing chair in the Thomas Bernhard novel Woodcutters, that's probably the best wing chair in any novel ever, not that I've done a comprehensive survey of wing chairs in western literature. It might have been like the Woodcutters wing chair, how unalike can any two wing

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-39377022081751076842009-04-20T18:00:00.000-07:002009-04-20T18:03:36.667-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-79648322094674083142009-04-19T17:25:00.000-07:002009-04-19T18:25:54.720-07:00

I'm no fan of the sun, or sunny days, or daytime of any kind for that matter, but the first sunny days of spring have always been especially troublesome, not because I loathe sunlight in some kind of goth affectation, I am a member of my species after all and not a vampire, not counting my tendency toward emotional vampirism which is another subject entirely, but because temperamentally I seem to

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-1806874120085551602009-04-15T20:28:00.000-07:002009-04-15T20:29:57.314-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-61424098147491156222009-04-14T02:32:00.001-07:002009-04-14T04:52:50.789-07:00

Of course I feel better now, just as I predicted. I am manipulating the mammalian brain with old school technique, tried and true. Of course it doesn't last, I have to do it all the time, several times a week. But it helps. I'm also going to give this meditation thing a serious go, I will become a master manipulator not only of the brain but of the breath. Tonight I'm reading The Death of Ivan

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-58744057071434017432009-04-13T21:32:00.000-07:002009-04-13T22:11:48.908-07:00

Intense loneliness today. It's not such a bad thing, I mean just because I admit it doesn't make it interesting. There are worse things to feel. There's no depth to my loneliness, it's just a weak habit of mind, it lacks ennobling chiaroscuro. Later I'll dutifully go to the gym and go through my ridiculous routine, I've gone so many times and it still feels silly, it's unlikely I'll ever get used

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-89746511395125361252009-04-13T20:46:00.000-07:002009-04-13T21:06:46.252-07:00

Nell [without lowering her voice]: Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. But—Nag [shocked]: Oh!Nell: Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it's always the same thing. Yes, it's like the funny story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don't laugh any more.— "Endgame"

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-9733741743005601242009-04-12T21:14:00.001-07:002009-04-12T22:10:36.701-07:00

Despondent, downhearted, then I saw a documentary about the Andes and there were some spectacled bears and dancing flamingoes and a cloud forest and an eerie salt pan. I have made a fool of myself yet again and it feels like it might be time to change. What a clown I can be. I miss people who will never come even part way back and after a certain point it's pitiful to even hope. I might like to

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-33279123274249265542009-04-10T23:48:00.000-07:002009-04-11T00:14:00.746-07:00

Keeping my cat from vomiting is my occupation. I discard strategies, try new ones. I find myself imploring food to stay inside him for the time being. I spoon it out and say to it, Now I don't want to see you again for a whole day. Sam is old, approximately 13. I got him from the shelter in '97 and the vet there estimated he was around a year old. His body didn't begin to betray him till recently

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-35463243808051001592009-04-08T05:57:00.000-07:002009-04-08T06:05:34.564-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-1767425921801214822009-04-08T02:22:00.000-07:002009-04-08T06:23:08.101-07:00

In All About Eve, Karen Richards tells Eve Harrington that as a playwright's wife, she, Karen, is "the lowest form of celebrity." This was in 1950, decades before the internet, so of course Karen could not possibly have realized just how many lower forms of celebrity would eventually become discernible in the fetid depths of our "sweet cesspool," as George Sanders famously put it in his suicide

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-5922279515942291002009-04-05T05:45:00.000-07:002009-04-05T05:46:47.822-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-84039040605707641812009-04-05T05:36:00.000-07:002009-04-05T05:42:19.632-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-65315696767492896282009-04-03T06:27:00.000-07:002009-04-03T06:48:29.677-07:00

I can't wait to test my new resolve to refrain from pointless regrets. I'm excited about it, bursting with confidence, which is rare for me. I just need something to happen that might in the past have filled me with regret so that I can feel myself not having any regrets. I need a missed opportunity, due to cowardice say, or a bad decision, something. I feel good about this but it's too abstract.

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-67903062924575181012009-04-03T03:21:00.001-07:002009-04-03T04:10:07.052-07:00

If I sneak up on my mouth words will startle out but I'm not always sure which words. If I know for certain which words they might not come out but they're still words, not ideas of words or potential words but real words, as real as if spoken. They ascend close enough to take on dimensionality, the surface features of testimony. They might thrash a bit, get dinged. Then thwarted they recede and

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-43640120760427517532009-04-02T06:55:00.001-07:002009-04-02T06:55:45.537-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-73852660353416183712009-04-01T00:46:00.000-07:002009-04-01T03:34:07.452-07:00

I watched Forbidden Games but I found the beginning difficult to sit through, where the little girl wanders the countryside carrying her dying/dead dog. Then later the tone switches back and forth uncomfortably between lacerating pathos and slapstick humor. I was probably just bent out of shape by that twitching dog at the beginning. How did they get it to convulse like that? It bothered me. Is

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-51706766668979985572009-03-30T02:46:00.000-07:002009-03-30T02:48:29.536-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-50310513143029699812009-03-30T00:21:00.000-07:002009-03-30T04:35:22.303-07:00

There's this Chantal Akerman movie I keep thinking about, it's been years since I've seen it but every so often my mind returns to it spontaneously. I don't even remember much of what happens in it, not that much of anything happens in any Chantal Akerman movie. It's a summer night in this movie, in Brussels I think, I don't remember but it's probably Brussels, not that I've ever been to Brussels

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-42386602084730128102009-03-25T17:46:00.000-07:002009-03-26T01:56:52.317-07:00

It's been years since I've seen my family, almost a decade. Things happen all by themselves unless you intervene, situations come into existence and suddenly there's a need to confront them, if movies are to be believed. Somehow I've become distanced from my family, maybe even estranged, from my mother and two sisters, at some point in the years since we've seen each other or spoken to each other

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-64194153108508142072009-03-24T21:11:00.001-07:002009-03-24T21:13:04.256-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-69045458396193034782009-03-19T21:15:00.000-07:002009-03-19T22:01:22.092-07:00

Today the clouds were poised to attack but the swelling was all for show. Some bullies never hit you because they don't have to. Now it's dark and I don't think about them. I never think about clouds when I can't see them. When it rains at night I more or less think of it as falling from the darkness. You never hear of people getting struck by lightning at night. When I was reading in my reading

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-78160515804303697812009-03-18T04:21:00.001-07:002009-03-18T06:40:57.228-07:00

My reading is desultory to the point of absurdity, it's why I can never remember anything, books go right through me like beer. I'm sure it's a common complaint. I need a system, or some kind of loose plan anyway. I should read thematically so that something sticks. I usually read a few unrelated books in a quick enthusiastic burst but then feel more ignorant than I did before. Even with fiction

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-37475220208412571802009-03-17T06:14:00.000-07:002009-03-17T06:25:16.414-07:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-83189435681645313992009-03-16T21:10:00.000-07:002009-03-17T01:42:23.199-07:00

I went down to Powell's tonight to hear Matt Briggs read. The Matt Briggs reading was part of the Smallpresspalooza event. I normally wouldn't attend anything ending in palooza, and I usually hate author readings, but I really wanted to hear Matt read. It was great. He read a funny story about someone unraveling ("Knot") and also the terrific title story from his new collection, The End is the

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-15301614147271032322009-03-14T15:33:00.000-07:002009-03-14T15:51:33.341-07:00

So much to do, but first my sarcophagus needs a little Febreze. I always feel ambitious when it rains this persuasively. I can't measure up to the achievements of weather but I can dream. So in the language of our degraded age, today I am opening a new project. Writing on a typewriter is sounding better and better. I wonder what will happen to James Purdy's typewriter. Imagine writing on James

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-35583783037722940322009-03-13T03:06:00.000-07:002009-03-13T04:16:01.271-07:00

Back to the gym last night. I've only been a few times this year, mainly due to sickness. So I start again. At this point exercise feels a little futile. I know what I need to do to feel better, to keep my back pain away, and to keep my various crippling anxieties at bay, and my insomnia, the question is do I have the necessary zeal, since I don't like going and don't enjoy it at all. I do it

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-17245807448144638002009-03-10T22:17:00.000-07:002009-03-10T23:36:25.205-07:00

I should hike and ride a bike. I live in Portland, I should do these things. I do like to walk. Hiking is really just a kind of walking, with added exertion, strain on the joints, and perspiration. In my case probably some chafing, bleeding, and other mild insults to the physical envelope. I think it could be satisfying, even sort of exhilarating. I do like to accomplish a task, it's a rare

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-35796312239446663882009-03-09T23:37:00.001-07:002009-03-09T23:52:00.763-07:00

The same pot of geraniums is showing up in every book I read. How is that possible? This is three or four books in a row. How common are geraniums in fiction? I was going to say it's not the same pot of geraniums, obviously, they're different pots of geraniums, but then I realized that isn't true, since none of them are real there's no reason to think they aren't all the same geraniums. It's not

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-45262763581494541512009-03-09T03:25:00.000-07:002009-03-11T05:24:49.499-07:00

Those self-assembling nickel particles don't surprise me. They collect themselves into snake-like configurations and slither about, eating up stray bits of flotsam. Once something happened long ago; the rest of it was just a matter of waiting. Everything is dumbly lining up to occur. There's still time yet. Can you feel it? "Something is taking its course," as Clov says in "Endgame." There's no

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-71622937448525685212009-03-05T05:45:00.000-08:002009-03-05T05:57:49.255-08:00

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-80660822974498466362009-03-02T19:53:00.000-08:002009-03-02T20:14:22.169-08:00

My room smells like chemicals, from the plastic film applied to the windows to keep the sun out. The sun isn't kept out completely but the glare is reduced enough to make my computer screen visible. This particular chemical smell made me remember a movie that scared me when I was a little kid, some black and white movie that was always on television on Saturday. I don't remember much about it

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-59908729925780783002009-03-02T01:37:00.000-08:002009-03-02T01:56:55.192-08:00

I have a fear of mistakenly thinking myself unseen. I am fine not being seen and I can handle being seen but I get all riled up and freaked out when I think I'm unseen and it turns out I'm being observed, say by someone who has silently entered the room. It doesn't even matter what I am doing or not doing, I could be doing nothing, it's just the idea that I might have been doing something

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-73879973870672428362009-02-27T21:30:00.000-08:002009-02-27T21:43:14.890-08:00

I changed my mind about birds. My negative opinion of birds has been corrected. I read The Voyage of the Beagle by Darwin and it completely turned me around on birds. Only books can change my opinion that way, never experiences, except insofar as reading a book is having an experience. I never become interested in something and then read more about it. I'm not interested in anything. I read a

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-78015283661006595232009-02-19T04:55:00.000-08:002009-02-19T05:45:37.637-08:00

I am struggling to get over the flu, what turned out to be the flu. Actually I'm not struggling, I'm not doing anything, it's my body that's struggling or not struggling, I have no idea if it is or isn't, but in any event it has nothing to do with me. People are always taking credit for things their bodies do, just like how we say thank you when people compliment our pets. "The flu." I can't get

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-18530289503740432252009-02-16T00:20:00.000-08:002009-02-16T01:00:10.085-08:00

I love in The Exterminating Angel when one characters remarks, upon hearing of the death of a fellow party guest, "We should evaporate when we die." I'd feel better about dying if that were true. I hate the thought of my corpse being found in a humiliating posture, or frozen in a position like Paul Lynde was found, clawing the air in the direction of the telephone. I'd like to die having

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-29602581251737016532009-02-15T03:15:00.000-08:002009-02-15T04:16:06.121-08:00

It's probably true that I don't have any special talent for living, not like some people do, everyone knows those people, the ones who seem to wring so much from each day so effortlessly, from the moment they wake up until they close their eyes they seem to grasp what is essential in every event no matter how ephemeral, with grace and lightness they extract the essence and move on, everything

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-41803386114662050562009-02-13T20:33:00.000-08:002009-02-13T21:37:17.166-08:00

My dog's behavior is consistent from day to day, yet I love him more on certain days, because the behavior of people is variable. I have a stratospheric level of baseline regard for my dog, it never dips below severe, aching love, but on some days it can soar higher still because I come into a windfall of surplus, distributable affection after bitterly downgrading the human beings in my life.

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-89907975624365046942009-02-11T23:45:00.000-08:002009-02-14T20:18:20.448-08:00

It's important to get outside yourself, to pay attention to the world. I was thinking of watching birds. Birds are in the world, they're everywhere. I don't like birds but liking them isn't necessary. I'm trying not to watch myself so much and I need a substitute. All the birds of the world can stand in for me. I could sit in the forest and observe the bird world, I could keep a bird notebook and

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-66933582623431949952009-02-07T18:00:00.000-08:002009-02-07T18:27:59.695-08:00

I feel contagion. My teeth feel soft and there is not one comfortable chair in the house. These are sure signs. My shoulder aches. Someone set my eyes on fire as I napped. Etc. Everyone feels the beginning differently, in this way everyone is uniquely boring. I'll have to drink tea, a beverage I dislike. There is a dignity about tea, a gravitas that chafes. I don't think I measure up to tea but

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-1310381310044609292009-02-03T14:49:00.000-08:002009-02-03T15:25:08.064-08:00

I woke up with something to say but you can't just wake up and say a thing, if by say a thing you mean what I mean which is write a thing. I don't often say in the sense of say. I don't speak well, even to animals. I don't write well either but I write, or can write, fluently, sometimes, which I can't say about my saying. I write best when I'm saying something specific and I say best when I'm

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-86703929433143498162009-02-02T15:05:00.000-08:002009-02-02T15:28:17.287-08:00

I am less gregarious than I used to be, which isn't true. Not strictly true. I am less gregarious than I was before the period in which I became somewhat more gregarious than I am now, a duration of some years in which my general degree of gregariousness remained fairly consistent, for the most part, with some interesting exceptions, which is to say that there is no clear pattern to my levels of

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-29588835522004832482009-01-22T20:39:00.001-08:002009-01-22T20:53:44.673-08:00

I made no resolutions this year, other than to commit to doing everything I do differently than I did last year, and the year before that, this whole century basically, in fact you can include most of the 1990s too as long we're heaping on the years.  All of the 1990s. Not just differently but really differently. Basically I've resolved to become the opposite of what I've been since 1990. That is

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-71137857727124326022009-01-22T11:16:00.001-08:002009-01-22T11:44:40.969-08:00

Unencumbered by the appurtenances of renown, I am at liberty to admit just about anything without fear of public ignominy. So it's easy for me to say that I daydreamed about fellating Vince from the Shamwow infomercials. I didn't imagine it as a pleasant experience but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I insisted he wear the headset and narrate the proceedings in that grating voice. He marveled at how

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-11956422778588750782009-01-20T20:56:00.000-08:002009-01-21T10:40:08.746-08:00

I got up too late to watch the good part of the inauguration. I caught some of the waving and smiling. When people are being applauded or cheered they often point back at a person in the crowd as if in recognition but it's probably not recognition. By counter-acknowledging some arbitrary stranger in the throng they mean to suggest that it's really all about us, we're the important ones here,

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-61221906732647830742009-01-17T19:33:00.001-08:002009-01-17T20:03:21.410-08:00

Saturday. Perturbations of the mind. Possible origins:Wind. Cold, gusting winds cause rattling of the domicile, structural groan. Perimeter breach. Uncertain future.Sports highlight show. Braying host. Torturously repeated commercial for Ford F-150 truck that trumpets its ability to drive through fire and between rapidly crumbling stone pillars while getting 21 mpg highway. Sorrow.Time to think.

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-67291659211979729702009-01-16T23:29:00.000-08:002009-01-16T23:55:43.273-08:00

I started writing a story called "You Have Not Yet Heard the Worst." I'm tired, though, so I will have to continue it tomorrow. I might forget what it was supposed to be, in which case I will never finish it. I'm too sleepy to finish it now, too sleepy and too mentally tired to even get it to a point where finishing it or continuing it with the prospect of finishing it is likely. Sometimes you

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-72582201113374576532009-01-15T23:26:00.000-08:002009-01-16T23:24:50.948-08:00

Those mysterious plumes of methane gas on Mars, are they signs of life? Is the methane a byproduct of microbial activity or geochemical processes? If life is eventually determined to exist on Mars, how should I react? What will be my primary emotion if life is discovered on Mars? Will my primary emotion be appropriate to the situation and circumstances? Will I record my feelings in my diary? Will

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-56388570381344842492009-01-15T15:19:00.000-08:002009-01-15T15:41:19.963-08:00

I love seeing people reading books alone in bars. I don't know why. It has to be a book, not a magazine or a computer screen, and it has to be a bar not a coffee shop. There's something sexy about a man sitting alone in a bar with a book and a drink. Self-possession is a quality I find attractive because I lack it utterly, and to concentrate on a book in a loud bar requires a degree of

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-40581805783723263362009-01-14T22:50:00.000-08:002009-01-15T01:43:56.150-08:00

My room felt like bad air today. Not like on a road trip, not bad car air, which is human air. It's the opposite of human air. At some point the atmosphere became distracted or uninterested and reluctant to buffer or cushion an occupant. It's a choked throat of a room, or a room whose leg fell asleep. Something in this room stopped doing its part, or turned the room against itself. I narrowed my

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-58079851841894336112009-01-14T00:52:00.000-08:002009-01-14T13:25:23.708-08:00

I can't keep myself from playing Fieldrunners. I like to shore up my defenses, I like to protect my vulnerabilities. There's also satisfaction in a job well done. When I set up my bulwarks and fortifications and watch repeated attempts at penetration fail I think how clever I am in my use of limited resources. I also feel pleasure and relief.  I appreciate the pleasure but I love the relief.I

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-70230435812802291412009-01-08T22:00:00.000-08:002009-01-08T23:48:13.196-08:00

You are pronounced dead but rarely pronounced alive unless you were first thought to be dead. It's up to you to repeatedly proclaim your existence, apparently. It's a lot of work. People might be expected to figure it out themselves. Usually they don't, and some manner of self-assertion is required. It's ticklish, or perhaps the beginning of the end. It's probably not worth it. Rhoda said, "Allow

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-4510478788886012842009-01-08T14:16:00.000-08:002009-01-08T16:11:15.738-08:00

What is "supple" writing? I am frequently baffled by common descriptive terms. When someone's writing is described as supple my ignorance enrages me. I want to bury my face in a pillow and scream No, No, No. I never used to know what people meant when they described the guitar on a record as "angular," but then it was explained to me. So that's one. But it would be impractical to re-read all

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-33235670902785419622009-01-07T21:59:00.001-08:002009-01-08T13:15:16.869-08:00

I had problems before, one is never entirely free of problems, but my problems multiplied and intensified when I tried to find the numinous in everyday life, in nature or in small moments of being. The glistening leaf, wet with dew. The wondrous flight of an angry hornet in pursuit of a shrieking child. Life teems with such quotidian miracles, after all, as we rush to and fro in our foolish

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-36899380410118810342009-01-07T00:58:00.000-08:002009-01-07T16:47:21.877-08:00

I've been taking great pains to mask a persistent hum in my room. It's a soft hum. I can barely hear it. Sometimes these hums are in your ears, or brain, but sometimes they're not, they're in the world, the exterior air hums vs. the mind or body hums, both are experienced by most people occasionally, and this one is an outside-me hum, although I've heard my share of inside-me hums, brain hums.

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-69435025036733210532009-01-05T00:49:00.000-08:002009-01-05T01:28:46.997-08:00

Everyone is surprised to discover that their favorite childhood snacks, which they have not seen in years, are actually still being made, back east, or in the Great Lakes area, as a regional product only. Like Utz potato chips, or whatever. Or those snack cakes. You name it. This knowledge moment begins to lose its wonder even before it's over. Even while it's still reverberating in your head

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-70007717124118540552008-12-28T22:09:00.001-08:002008-12-28T22:21:46.201-08:00

Today was dreary. The deadness of the internet, that contaminating loneliness. But tomorrow I'm trying some exciting new non-dairy creamers and maybe buying a red cashmere scarf.  Just a little something for myself. Why not? Or a gun. I don't like to wear scarves but I like the idea of losing one and thinking it could be anywhere.

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-65559204546028097012008-12-27T23:00:00.001-08:002008-12-27T23:47:09.323-08:00

It would be flattering to be publicly named as a person of interest in a widely reported crime, a crime destined to become notorious. I wouldn't want to be guilty of the crime, especially if it was a crime of violence, which it would almost have to be if it was a crime destined for notoriety, or infamy. It's rare for a non-violent crime to achieve notoriety. I wouldn't want to have committed the

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-34888090298105601092008-12-26T12:27:00.000-08:002008-12-26T13:01:58.540-08:00

Billy left last night, to visit his family for a few days in a vague part of the eastern United States. I will be watching JB's state of mind as the days go by, since he's never been separated from Billy for more than a day. JB is monitoring me for the same reason.  I am prepared with cheering-up strategies known to be effective with canines and the more cerebral species of tropical fish. I had

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-39966879613747763272008-12-25T13:41:00.000-08:002008-12-25T14:22:35.358-08:00

The werewolves of December have given me the gimlet eye. If you see what you are looking at you will know that another world is superimposed on the one we inhabit. In this other, superior realm the toilet tissue is both soft and tough, with no compromises. It commands respect and has earned the adjective "luxurious."

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17433838.post-44802855462284918692008-12-24T08:34:00.000-08:002008-12-24T08:59:26.678-08:00

This is the time for the swelling of emotion. Other things can and do swell the rest of the year, mostly in the summer months, but winter is the time of stasis, durations of crushing equilibrium, punctuated by sudden surges of feeling, sometimes accompanied by grotesque faces and revelatory outbursts, sometimes not. One minute you are sitting quietly with your hands in your lap and the next you

sublethalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06803021510554313816noreply@blogger.com1