Location: St. Vincent & Grenadines

You were driving home in the dark on one glass-slippered heel, window sliced open and bathing in the snowliquor of the night air. We heard you singing, and couldn't bear to wake you.

26 November 2005

A million blackbirds looking like one.

Item: Well, it looks like The Dickens, a fine annual litmag that unfortunately has no website, is going to publish another of my poems. Hurrah! I haven't written much of consequence for a while, but it's still nice to be recognized, even for old work. The poem they accepted this year, "Oculomotor", is one that I've always really liked, so I'm glad it's finally going to see print.

Item:Thanksgiving was tryptophantastic, a gathering of many layers of families and friends in our living room eating succulent comfort food and playing with small, diapered people. And the day before Thanksgiving, Kev was able to make it up in time to hit the open mic night at Coffee Catz with me. We were the last two performers of the night and the crowd was down to about six people, but it was still a blast. Kev rocked the hizzy into a folk-rock tizzy. I wasn't too bad myself.

Item:The wildly popular sport of decorating the face of a person who has passed out from drinking too much alcohol is not usually my thing, since the decorations tend to be rather unimaginative variations on the same theme, but I liked this one more than most. I actually wouldn't mind if I woke up one morning with a face like that.

Item:When you have a moment, stroll around the grounds of the Maybe Logic Academy and take in a lecture by Robert Anton Wilson. Information is surprise.


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