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July 4th, 2005

sounds like a bad war movie out there

The explosions in the distance, with occasional whistles & Doppler effect... diehard fireworksers, unfazed by the persistent casual rain & soggy ground. At this point in the movie our protagonists are probably holed up someplace, behind half-fallen stone walls, up against great odds & planning the next suicidal-looking move that'll turn out to be just the trick. Or are they bartering candy bars & nylons to stick their dicks in a Sophia Loren look-alike, which will happen off-camera & thus be tasteful? It's something like that.

Saw the Ypsi parade this morning. After harvesting a bunch of my backyard berries. Then hit the half-off thrifting. Just back from the new Batman movie (eh) (worse than "eh," actually).

Neighbors B&S gave me a replacement for my coffee press. I'd knocked it off the counter the other day---conveniently enough, right into a paper grocery sack, so the glass was already neatly contained. I recommend leaving open paper bags all over your kitchen. One day it'll save you a hassle.

My Independence Day weekend has been good.

I want to say something about the opening & closing of the windows, and how it gives me a kind of peace with routine, a virtual allergy of mine, psychologically---particularly regular routine; daily & regular even worse. There's something pretty danged matter-of-fact, and rational t'boot, about opening the windows in the evening & closing 'em in the morning, at this time of year, in this weather, at Mudville. It's just what you need to do. It's takin' care of business. It's all okay, and there's no pull to question it, and I actually even just barely but discernably every once in a while enjoy it---even enjoy its very matter-of-factness, which is pretty much enjoying the very routine of it. Morning. Getting up . . . going to window . . . closing window. Going to next window . . . That kind of thing. Evening now. Definitely cooler outside. Move to nearest window . . . throw it open. . . . Move to next window . . .

I'm confused about why this business feels significant to me, but it does.
Mo and discy disc


Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists


"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.


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