some things I don’t understand: the reverence with which a whole bunch of people I was hanging with last night were talking about mcdonalds. did I love it like that when I was a kid? because when I think about it now I just feel nauseous.
also: sports. they make me tourrette-ily shout, “SPORTS!” when they are being excessively discussed to which one person there, who knows I am a poet, seemed to suggest that poetry and sports can’t co-exist in harmony and while I would have liked to refute this, for me it is the truth. I don’t care about sports. SPORTS!
I like it when I learn more about other human beings by asking questions and finding them, against all odds, answered. sometimes I forget how we are all bumbling along but also how we can learn from each other, and we can feel less alone by just talking. let’s talk. we will feel less alone.
and my enthusiasm for my rain barrel is probably as foreign to most of them as their enthusiasm for mcdonalds, so we are even. but I betcha some poet has written a great poem about sports. wait, I’ve got it without even thinking hard: james wright’s autumn begins in martin’s ferry ohio.
TRYPTIC ($25) is a fairly simple board game which nevertheless allows for deep play (bluffing, pattern recognition, and spatial strategy). People have been known to get a little obsessed with this one. And it is, ahem, pretty sexy looking. The boards are carved maple with glass pieces.
TOXIC GNOME ($15) is an orthographic game (along the lines of Scrabble or Boggle) with a mechanic that makes it a little more intense than those games.
PETRI DISH ($20) is a spatial game aimed at younger kids (I’ve played with 5-year olds, and they won). It’s all made of felt, it moves fast, and it’s very unpredictable.
this morning I went to return the paint the store mixed incorrectly. the dude who mixed BOTH gallons kept saying, “someone used the WRONG BASE!” Here’s the thing about blaming “someone” or saying “those people.” It is all of us. He mixed both my gallons: the wrong one and the right one. blaming “someone” or “those people” is so silly because I’d rather just admit that I’m human too. I said that to him, but didn’t have the heart to be like, “DUDE, someone is YOU.”
two days ago on my lunchbreak I decided to stuff my face with my mini pechuga asada (small roast breast, I guess) next to the people’s bank HQ, where I can admire the barnum museum and bathe myself in that november stranger, sunlight. o sunlight. how I pine for you like a lover during these short-sunned months.
maybe I vaguely knew that the seating I chose to sit upon is popular with bmx bikers and skateboarders, since it displays the marks of their enthusiasm—dark edges and a closeness to the ground that encourages tricks. also: it is a fairly huge plaza, often empty of people because there is no greenery and some days the bank HQ and placement of buildings on this street creates a wind tunnel.
when one biker sped by and shot me a dirty look I was confused. then another did, then another, then one jumped his bike onto the long stone seating and then jumped off before hitting me. I realized what was going on, suddenly, and apologized because here I was, a single person with a plate of beans and chicken and plantains and rice taking over a landscape of fun for them. one of them said, “it’s cool, we just have to head a little further.” this made me feel better, but still sorry.
who owns these streets? we all do. I felt badly that I wasn’t sharing them. but that lunch was delicious, and so was the sunlight blasting down in its wintry way.
last evening marked a success in sleep: I was able to wake at 3 am-about and then successfully fall back asleep until 7.10. Previous attempts at this not-so-big-feat have been elusive in the past few weeks. I blame the shortening days & I blame my anxieties.
I felt like a newly minted human and so I did the dishes and got dressed slubbishly and took to the streets and the state park with my dog. She being keenly aware of all ground-dwellers alerted me to a small bunny rabbit who lives just down the lane from us. I had thought all bunnies in the 06460 lived in woodmont, so this was delightful.
I was inspired by this david sedaris interview to renew my old litter-pickin up trends of my old downtown dwelling days, particularly since my pup on a long walk is in the habit of dropping multiple deuces. So the deuce closest to home inside its bag becomes a trash bag for all the street detritus of meadowside road, and then I dump it at the trash can at the school playground and proceed to the state park. perhaps someone will buy me an official litter pickin device for christmas?
this morning the rooster that lives at the animal shelter was crowing hardcore, and the sun was trying to peek out but not doing so well, and I again collected seaweed to compost in our garden for next year. There were also a bunch of guys working on a beach mansion but mostly they seemed to be taking in the view and also checking their smart phones, and I understood at least part of this equation. I looked unsuccessfully for the vicious beast who bit my dog’s butt in the neighborhood and then we went home. I drank lukewarm tea and dressed for work. amen.
(This is a photo of me, my mom & my brother with our first computer) (the background was black and the display was orange. this was a huge deal, this computer.)
"The computer is dangerous because it shapes your capacity to understand what’s possible. The computer is like an apparently submissive servant that turns out to be a subversive that ultimately gains control of your mind. The computer is such a powerful instrument that it defines, after a while, what is possible for you. And what is possible is within the computer’s capacity. And while it seems in the beginning like this incredibly gifted and talented servant actually has a very limited intelligence — the brain is so much vaster than the computer. But, the computer is very insistent about what it’s good at, and before you know it — it’s like being with somebody who has bad habits, you sort of fall into the bad habits — and it begins to dominate the way you think about what is possible. … [Counter this] by doing things that are uncomfortable for it to do."
To mark the 50th anniversary of the The March for Jobs and Freedom, the National Archives’ Motion Picture Preservation Lab completed a full digital restoration of James Blue’s monumental 1963 film. The original negatives assembled by James Blue were scanned and three months were spent restoring defects in the image and enhancing the audio track.
these women are far more serious, talented and compelling than a twerking miley cyrus and robin thicke. I feel old missing the 90s but I confess to missing the 90s with sometimes serious passion. I drove to western mass this weekend pumping liz phair. I hung out with my bff from my high school years. we looked at old issues of sassy magazine and photographs of michael stipe with hair and wondered whether or not she should toss her tape collection. we talked about stipe’s sensuous lips and the perils of ill-advised kissing. we looked at old postcards and ephemera and tried to make decisions about what should stay and what should go to the great trash pile of past life, of memory banks but not boxes to be moved to the new apartment in northampton. we swam in a lake and I visited her 4th grade classroom and nearly cried because I was so happy that she is now a teacher, and I was happy for her students who will benefit from her great generosity of spirit as a human being. I ate popcorn with nutritional yeast that reminded me of my college years and we wondered at what it means to find love, to be love, to seek love, to struggle in love, and everything was unsolved but stumbled through. everything was unsolved & more tender than ever. we wanted to start a women’s village where the perils of love and relationships would not enter but I kept arguing that while this sounded great in theory, humans like to create chaos in order to compel change…in order to spark things…and a land without chaos would be so dull. even a capricorn like myself would find it boring. I listened to malvina reynolds on the car ride home who sang, “love is something if you give it away/give it away/give it away/you end up having more” and “bury me in my overalls" and when I got home I stayed in the car and "the little mouse" played and I waited for the song to end. my lover came to the car and had been meditating on love in the garage. we hugged against the slippery nature of change and we hugged with hope. we hugged hard.