In an as yet unpublished short story of mine, the action is as follows: a terminally ill woman asks her husband to tell her a story so as to alleviate her unbearable pains. No sooner does he begin his tale than she stops him:

--No, not like that. I want you to speak to me in an unknown language ( Read more... )

I caught myself perverting all the laws ( Read more... )

I am much, much too tired to explain how amazing the mountains were today.

All human action is incomplete, partial, and characterised by contradictions, concealments and distortions...the meanings that are constituted by social practices (e.g. classification and labeling) often assume a life of their own (reification) and become cultural ideologies (or standards) for a host of value laden discriminatory practices (e.g. ( Read more... )

Fourteen-hour shifts on over-seventy degree days in Seattle should go suck it.

Also, Seattle, I do not know what you think you are doing being so beautiful all the time, but it makes me very pleased.

Take hold on me; for my particular grief
Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.

Shakespeare. [See, I am doing my homework!]

Moving!

( Read more... )

The past couple of days have been really, really hard. I don't have the energy to talk about it, and talking about it won't help. It's been over three months home now and I haven't had any truly hard days, but last night I just sat on the porch and chain smoked and cried and cried and cried because there was nothing else to do. I wish it had helped ( Read more... )