archives for April 2007
friday refrain · plain old pop song
Friday 13 April 2007 | I like a cookie
spanish dancer
oh mama there’s this spanish dancer
whose steps I follow when he comes near
the red dress of temptation
over a long black slip of fear
will I fall beneath the shadow of some broken cross
my arms emptied and all my treasures lost
still like that spanish dancer I
throw my roses down for him
across these beds of darkness he
opens […]
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concession speech (from a letter to the professoressa)
Thursday 12 April 2007 | I like a cookie
Hello dear, and many thanks for long-distance emotional/psychospiritual hand-holding through this whole crazy process. This morning I wrote the State School and accepted their offer. There really wasn’t anything else to do, other than just not go anywhere, which didn’t feel right at all.
It’s funny—if I think of it as an adjunct job that pays […]
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small confession
Wednesday 11 April 2007 | 3 cookies in the jar
I suspect that I have some seldom-visiting readers who, well, who don’t like me very much (this isn’t the confession part—that’s still ahead). Now this is an oddly contemporary phenomenon, this desire to read people’s blogs even though we have the faintest edging of contempt for them and their sad little thoughts, and it does […]
hilarious given the context
Wednesday 11 April 2007 | I like a cookie
The small print
This influence frequently coincides with a period of good feeling and an optimistic outlook on life. And if you exercise some care, it will be very helpful for all kinds of contractual negotiations, conferences, planning sessions and discussions. However, it is important to be careful. This influence gives a tendency to grand thinking, […]
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fickle april reversals
Wednesday 11 April 2007 | someone left a cookie
I’m climbing into bed late last night when I decide I’ll take my wad of State School paperwork with me and study it indolently from beneath the covers. Leafing through, grousing comfortably in my head about the three-week trainings and the mandatory thises and thats, I abruptly encounter a well-concealed sentence which literally, dear reader, […]
and I must admit
Tuesday 10 April 2007 | I like a cookie
that I’m deeply amused by my recently composed craigslist ad, in which the Brujo and I come off like a fine pair of geeky wingnuts, and our cat and dog look like green-eyed children of Satan. Would you rent to these people? No more would I, no matter how strenuously they use the word “successful.”
me me me and how do you like my dress? a powerpoint capsule update
Tuesday 10 April 2007 | someone left a cookie
1. I’m working so hard on the Dying Book I can hardly breathe. I desperately want to be finished with it by Friday. Please, please, please….
2. Also on Friday, I’ll accept the State School’s offer, given the deafening absence of funding from Tucson—although they now want me to attend a mandatory TA training from July […]
read ‘me me me and how do you like my dress? a powerpoint capsule update’
saint jude
Sunday 8 April 2007 | I like a cookie
Weep when weeping is proper, sob when it is sobbing time, cry vigorously throughout the days of crying, and laugh grief away when grief grows stale. —Ramick, Meld
Wake to grey migraine, to remember. Peel back
the postage stamp to see no secret message, scour
each page for whatever it was him hoping I might read. He
wrote a […]
another imaginary conversation with the cat (dialogue provided by the Brujo)
Wednesday 4 April 2007 | I like a cookie
Unnarrator [cleaning out cat box with scoop]
Pyewacket [rounds corner to see what’s going on, stops short]
Un: It’s just the litter pan, Pye.
Pye [begins to back away with revolted expression on face]: Oh my God, someone’s been going to the bathroom in there! What kind of place is this?!
read ‘another imaginary conversation with the cat (dialogue provided by the Brujo)’
socks in the zendo
Wednesday 4 April 2007 | I like a cookie
Today has been uneventfully eventful; I turned down Hawaii, which felt surprisingly sad (will I ever live on an island? yes, but not just yet) and also spoke on the phone with the poet who interests me most at the State School. She was quiet but undeniably intelligent, spoke slowly and thoroughly; and also said, […]
