i like to knit them little sweaters
one of the things i really like about killjoys is the occasional flash of funny.
so my cousin's twins graduated from high school in june, right? while the rest of the family was off having summer adventures (travel, camp), my cousin entertained himself by organizing stuff, and in the process threw out the girl twin's graduation checks. which i know because he sent everyone an awkward email saying "i did this dumb thing, so if you wrote her a check, can you send a new one? don't bother canceling the original one, it's been shredded". oh my god, dude. i facepalmed so hard.
for reasons that escape me, there's a big pink gorilla up in tax at work. he sits on one of the file cabinet islands. one of the tax associates called for a vote yesterday and now he's going to the office in western mass.
tax associate: "show of hands, who wants the gorilla to stay?"
*no hands go up*
another tax associate: "let's send him to westborough!"
me: "we don't have box that big."
it's a big gorilla. you'd need a large-kitchen-appliance box. fortunately one of the partners volunteered to take him. eventually. at some point. every so often there's weird at work and it makes me happy.
the internet archive is digitizing a shit-ton of 78s. they go back as far as 1902 and cover a variety of genres and languages. fair warning: there's a lot of static on the recordings, on account of, you know, old records. but how cool that all that music is available to anyone who can get online.
frontier fantasy. this just looks really cool.
and in conclusion, have a poem.
On another night
in a hotel
in a room
in a city
flanked by all
that is unfamiliar
I am able to move
my finger along
a glass screen
once across
once vertical
& in seconds
see your mother
smiling in a room
that is our own
that is now so
far away but
also not so far
away at all
& she can place
the small screen
near her belly
& when I speak
I can see you
moving beneath
her skin as if you
knew that this
distance was
only temporary
& what a small
yet profound
joy it is to be some-
where that is not
with you but to
still be with you
& see your feet
dance beneath
her rib cage like
you knew we’d
both be dancing
together soon.
--Clint Smith, "FaceTime"
so my cousin's twins graduated from high school in june, right? while the rest of the family was off having summer adventures (travel, camp), my cousin entertained himself by organizing stuff, and in the process threw out the girl twin's graduation checks. which i know because he sent everyone an awkward email saying "i did this dumb thing, so if you wrote her a check, can you send a new one? don't bother canceling the original one, it's been shredded". oh my god, dude. i facepalmed so hard.
for reasons that escape me, there's a big pink gorilla up in tax at work. he sits on one of the file cabinet islands. one of the tax associates called for a vote yesterday and now he's going to the office in western mass.
tax associate: "show of hands, who wants the gorilla to stay?"
*no hands go up*
another tax associate: "let's send him to westborough!"
me: "we don't have box that big."
it's a big gorilla. you'd need a large-kitchen-appliance box. fortunately one of the partners volunteered to take him. eventually. at some point. every so often there's weird at work and it makes me happy.
the internet archive is digitizing a shit-ton of 78s. they go back as far as 1902 and cover a variety of genres and languages. fair warning: there's a lot of static on the recordings, on account of, you know, old records. but how cool that all that music is available to anyone who can get online.
frontier fantasy. this just looks really cool.
and in conclusion, have a poem.
On another night
in a hotel
in a room
in a city
flanked by all
that is unfamiliar
I am able to move
my finger along
a glass screen
once across
once vertical
& in seconds
see your mother
smiling in a room
that is our own
that is now so
far away but
also not so far
away at all
& she can place
the small screen
near her belly
& when I speak
I can see you
moving beneath
her skin as if you
knew that this
distance was
only temporary
& what a small
yet profound
joy it is to be some-
where that is not
with you but to
still be with you
& see your feet
dance beneath
her rib cage like
you knew we’d
both be dancing
together soon.
--Clint Smith, "FaceTime"