brujo category archives
intermission
Saturday 24 January 2009 | 13 cookies in the jar
Turns into bedtime. It’s after midnight, and the B., who has to my gaping astonishment and possibly also his, gone seven days without a cigarette, is passed out after I fed him black beans, rice, cheese enchiladas, avocado and tomato, and took us both for a walk in the rain. Really I should call it [...]
in which a youthful brujo expresses his opinion of suburbia
Wednesday 14 January 2009 | 10 cookies in the jar
Interesting, isn’t it, how rural the suburbs used to be? Before exurbia. This same youthful Brujo is also, unbeknownst to him, travelling forward in time to express precisely how I feel about the fact that there are now, officially, signed up for End of the World Class, wait for it…THIRTY-FOUR STUDENTS. Which means it suddenly [...]
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gobsmacked again
Tuesday 16 December 2008 | 5 cookies in the jar
Me: [far too late last night, trying, for no reason I can now remember or defend, to explain flarf vs. conceptual poetry to my sleepy companion, as we lay curling our chilly knees together and half-falling asleep, and thus finding myself resorting to the Land O' Lakes butter-maiden model, quod vide super] The Brujo: Yeah, [...]
reader, I purchased it.
Saturday 6 December 2008 | 3 cookies in the jar
Fifteen quid she were, Ms. Audace. On her way to me from France, par avion! Sadly, despite the thrill of waiting for a beautiful new pen, looming premenstrual doldrums have swept my brain abruptly empty of pretty much anything other than: • a sudden inability to wield Latinate vocabulary or subordinate clauses (while still stubbornly [...]
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let’s call the whole thing off
Tuesday 2 December 2008 | 7 cookies in the jar
So about half an hour ago, after three years of blissful romantic delusion, my domestic partner sees fit to drop it on me that he likes fruitcake. We are eating spumoni together (which does have candied fruit in it, hence this untimely revelation) and I am arrested, spoon halfway from carton to mouth. “Um, I’m [...]
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“…which, thanks anyway.”
Friday 28 November 2008 | 5 cookies in the jar
[The Brujo's and my new favorite expression of amused distaste, gleaned from a signal two grafs about Midwestern Xians near the end of "Ticket to the Fair."] So it was el Día de Accíon de Gracias. Last year we ate fish burritos at Amado’s, sitting outside in t-shirts under the palm trees. This year it [...]
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friday refrain · goin’ out to the brujo
Friday 21 November 2008 | 15 cookies in the jar
[But extra credit to anyone who can decipher Ms. Jackson's notoriously inscrutable gesture at 2:00 and 2:52, ending my twenty-year speculations?] Strange how you literally cannot watch her and not think about him. What we have inscribed on and into his body, deconstructing its blackness as surely as Elvis Presley took apart Big Mama Thornton. [...]
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me & the brujo in twenty years?
Friday 14 November 2008 | 6 cookies in the jar
Just imagine, you know, more cacti and maybe less flannel. ETA: And why I should have to even say this, in the era of Web 2.0, I don’t know; but you have to click on the picture and read the NYT story, maybe, for it to make as much sense as it could. Which the [...]
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how pets are like their owners
Friday 31 October 2008 | 5 cookies in the jar
It all started on Monday, when I took Fiona to have her teeth cleaned. [Dark warning: What follows is delightfully gory, and not for the odontophobic.] Ms. Finny was slightly daunted by not getting any breakfast, but was still all excited and slobbery and exuberant, as usual—until we got into the exam room and vet [...]
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anatomy of a chaos suck
Saturday 25 October 2008 | 3 cookies in the jar
So I have this theory. It concerns a phenomenon most often witnessed where humans are gathered in groups: like, in parking lots, or at parties, or around photocopiers: I call it the chaos suck. The chaos suck is a brief manifestation of concatenating micro-disasters—not unlike a dust devil, maybe, or a poltergeist, only, per Lorenz [...]
