"She was wearing a Euclidian plane as a sort of... sundress."
Props to my homeboy Lorien (aka Deep Erudition in Mathematica) for that line at the poetry slam last night. And for the poem about a parasitic fluke that lives in the digestion of cows. See, these flukes start out inside ants, and to get into cows, they compell the ants to climb blades of grass while the sun is up and sit at the tip, all day, until they get eaten or the sun goes down and they get to go back to doing ant things. He used it as a metaphor for love... in a speech he's reading as best man at a friend's wedding in South Carolina. Props, props.
I went to the library today, and before I got in the door I ran into Carl (my co"worker" from the Fairs, who I hadn't seen in months), and then Lawrence. Lawrence has been missing capoeira class but he's been practicing, so before I got to check out High Fidelity and Misquoting Jesus, we spent a while on the lawn between the library and Cowles Street, kicking each other in oblique and artful ways. I showed him amazonas until my shoulder ached, and showed him a couple of the sneaky, dirty kicks we've learned. He showed me a couple of take-downs, including one that could clearly snap my knee.
I do so enjoy that kicking each other has become a valid greeting in one circle of my Ven Diagram of friends.
I went to the library today, and before I got in the door I ran into Carl (my co"worker" from the Fairs, who I hadn't seen in months), and then Lawrence. Lawrence has been missing capoeira class but he's been practicing, so before I got to check out High Fidelity and Misquoting Jesus, we spent a while on the lawn between the library and Cowles Street, kicking each other in oblique and artful ways. I showed him amazonas until my shoulder ached, and showed him a couple of the sneaky, dirty kicks we've learned. He showed me a couple of take-downs, including one that could clearly snap my knee.
I do so enjoy that kicking each other has become a valid greeting in one circle of my Ven Diagram of friends.