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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| ...I lean forward in a squeaky office chair, page-worn eyes adjusting to the digital glare, unwashed hair drooping further with the rising steam from a foam coffee cup, chapped lip tucked under worrying teeth, mouse snuffling feverishly through summer job listings.
Yep, little has changed.
Except the veins on the backs of my hands are a little thicker, I have a cup of Oikos vanilla greek yogurt almost every day, I've taken up smoking and I no longer feel like I'm wasting away sucking up all the pollution of China into my lungs.
Kidding, I don't smoke, probably never will.
But this here ditty about cigarettes is my new favorite thing-- and considering it combines two things I have always disliked: cigarettes, and poetry-- I consider this a significant gander in a new direction. Join me on my newfound poetic appreciation of the little deathsticks, courtesy of Billy Collins, animator David Vaio and youtube.
Reflecting on things past always results in a self-applied sense of self-satisfaction, because we would rather see our progress than our stagnancy, or decline. I find the best way to evaluate my own footprints is by reading between the lines.
"Then I would be my own locomotive,
trailing behind me as I returned to work little puffs of smoke,
indicators of progress, signs of industry and thought,
the signal that told the nineteenth century it was moving forward.
That was the best cigarette, when I would steam into the study full of vaporous hope and stand there, the big headlamp of my face pointed down at all the words in parallel lines."
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| Great News from Apple Computer
Apple Computer reported today that it has developed
computer chips that can store and play music inside
women's breasts. This is considered to be a major
breakthrough because women are always complaining
about men staring at their breasts and not listening
to them.
baba | | |
| from the clowns on the homefront who pretend to be related to me, and with whom I share far too much of my poor man's/prude woman's-Sex&theCity-lifestyle:
This guy is a hopeless huahuagongzi [approximate translation: playboy]. You should looked directly into his eyes, slowly well up if you are class A actress, and say to him with quivering voice:"You are too young, too unstable. I know that you are looking for a playmate but I am looking for a soulmate. Please come back when you are much more mature and sincrere. Adios, my friend." As you slowly walk away (at this point some fog will be nice), turn 45 degree to him (soft lighting please) and give him a smile that he will never forget ( make sure to wipe off the spinach on the front teeth), and say to him: " Here is to look at you kid, after all, toworrow is just another day". (Dramatic music please)
baba
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| i need to stop listening to so much mark isham late at night; it makes me want to cry quietly and hold myself.
i'm going to bookmark this.
i've decided that between now and may, this site is not going to rejuvenate itself; it lacks pizzaz, it lacks time and effort and above all it lacks the diary-style writing i was so into when i first subscribed, but a naive flowerbud, with so much of the world yet untasted, more than two years ago. [cue soft-brushed time-lapse video footage of flowerbud opening] but hey! i'll gladly reference things actually worthwhile to read, like this article. | | |
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