Monthly Archives: March 2002

my magnificent life

I am trying to find every reason on earth not to write a word here (or anywhere, for that matter, since here is the only place I write lately, if I write).  And I have found almost all of them—reasons … Continue reading

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scan

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Peter II

(This is a follow-up to Peter I.) In about six hours I have to be back at work.  Right now I am feeling an awful lot like the way I feel when it comes time to do something which I … Continue reading

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Peter I

Okey dokey, I want to make blogger’s edit your blog page my browser’s home page, changing it from one of the news and information pages (the Guardian, the Boston Globe, CNN) it usually resides on, but I am torn.  Shouldn’t … Continue reading

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somewhere

You like Ulysses? Please don’t like me.  I don’t like being liked.  People who know me seem to know this through some instinct or perceptiveness that is alien to me.  I make a concerted effort to conceal my discomfort at … Continue reading

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fifty again

Already time for bed, again.  Why does this always happen?  Another day is gone, and I’m just getting here. Anyway, I told my boss today to take her bonus and stick it.  She wanted to give fifty bucks each to … Continue reading

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flat

Hello.  I have a flat on my bike.  Into which I pumped air whilst trying to get away from work.  Right after I chipped away the slush and ice which had encrusted the vehicle.  With my bare hands.  Then I … Continue reading

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joe.  (not me.)

Got back from Boston and found a comment from joe.  I thought, either I wrote this and forgot (dementia), or… I couldn’t imagine what else.  Then, two lines in: Ah ha!  And I wanted to faint.  Oooo-wheee, baby.  Joe!  The … Continue reading

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to do

I have to run.  Laundry.  Bank.  Train to Boston.  And it is snowing.  The forecast says the temperature will continue a gradual decline until it reaches eighteen degrees on Saturday.  Eight-fuckin’-teen!  Winter will be plunging its long icicle-fangs deep into … Continue reading

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Every day.

Every day.  I have been here every day.  Silent.  Mute.  Every day, with my muse playing soulful notes like a muted coronet—wailing, moaning, pleading, groaning.  And every day I hide from the screeching subway-noise of your eyes consuming my lines, … Continue reading

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I love the sound of

I love this guy.

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snippet

A fascinating snippet from a fascinating site. Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume One: The Will To Knowledge, Penguin, London. (First published: 1976). ? Queer theory grew, basically, out of this book. Why?  Because Foucault argues that the current … Continue reading

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There is a warm wind. 

There is a warm wind.  It shakes the house, rattles the windows which have been open all night, and makes the doors sound like someone is there, trying to get in.  It’s a storm; a mild summery Nor’easter, with clouds … Continue reading

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finishing 100

81.  When something goes wrong?even though I know it is not my fault?I not only believe that I will be blamed for it, but also that I should be blamed for it.  I am fatalistic resignation man. 82.  I am … Continue reading

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40 to go!

40 to go! 60.  I read the dictionary. 61.  I subscribe to National Geographic, though I do not know why, really. 62.  In my apartment are four computers.  Only one presently works. 63.  My bicycle chain needs oil, my bike … Continue reading

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