having accepted what you don't accept

that's a thought, isn't it.

i see yeats, i see simone, i see sylvia, i see geoffrey, i see h.d., ...

was recently remembering the "romper room" miss whoever-she-was "seeing" the kids outside the tv, calling us by name, and me knowing---as i told bert (she never saw "bert")--- that when she saw lisa it wasn't THIS lisa. but, if you ask me, that's one fucked-up thing to tell children to begin with--- that you're miss whoever and you see that kid through the cathode ray tube.

a grad student i don't know is procrastinating with the paper she has due monday. i've edited less than 10 pages of it, which i believe is to be 40-45 altogether, and she's thinking dribs and drabs to me---lord knows, probably up to midnight sunday---and then could i have it to her by first thing monday a.m.

i mean, sh*t. toward the end of my own short-lived academic career, as an UNDERgrad, i had already stopped pulling all-nighters FOR MYSELF. this is not to say i started papers ahead of time. this is to say that, so long as, sometime the night before, i had a basic angle (a thesis, if you will) formulated in any sorta reasonable form, i'd just go on to bed and get up early to start writing it like a crazy fool at 7 when it was due at 11. i mean, i could write and type 2 pages in an hour easy, so how hard, with so much more rest, would it be to do 4?

my point is, puh-lease.


there's somebody i want to meet. lives in chicago.


keep meaning to change my default icon from this moon. and change the color scheme around here again, too. right now, though, middle of the night, the moon is good, yet again.

the middle of the night was my first just-me friend the way a book seems to have been for some others. or the woods for some. part of why i was a little bummed to get to work at MR instead of making bread for zingerman's was that the latter would have involved being awake more for more of the middle of the night.

having accepted what you don't accept

that's a thought, isn't it.

i see yeats, i see simone, i see sylvia, i see geoffrey, i see h.d., ...

was recently remembering the "romper room" miss whoever-she-was "seeing" the kids outside the tv, calling us by name, and me knowing---as i told bert (she never saw "bert")--- that when she saw lisa it wasn't THIS lisa. but, if you ask me, that's one fucked-up thing to tell children to begin with--- that you're miss whoever and you see that kid through the cathode ray tube.

a grad student i don't know is procrastinating with the paper she has due monday. i've edited less than 10 pages of it, which i believe is to be 40-45 altogether, and she's thinking dribs and drabs to me---lord knows, probably up to midnight sunday---and then could i have it to her by first thing monday a.m.

i mean, sh*t. toward the end of my own short-lived academic career, as an UNDERgrad, i had already stopped pulling all-nighters FOR MYSELF. this is not to say i started papers ahead of time. this is to say that, so long as, sometime the night before, i had a basic angle (a thesis, if you will) formulated in any sorta reasonable form, i'd just go on to bed and get up early to start writing it like a crazy fool at 7 when it was due at 11. i mean, i could write and type 2 pages in an hour easy, so how hard, with so much more rest, would it be to do 4?

my point is, puh-lease.


there's somebody i want to meet. lives in chicago.


keep meaning to change my default icon from this moon. and change the color scheme around here again, too. right now, though, middle of the night, the moon is good, yet again.

the middle of the night was my first just-me friend the way a book seems to have been for some others. or the woods for some. part of why i was a little bummed to get to work at MR instead of making bread for zingerman's was that the latter would have involved being awake more for more of the middle of the night.