I have a poem here that I thought I'd lost, a piece titled "Aperçu," written in October 1995, while I was living in Athens, Georgia. I thought I'd lost it.* Yesterday, going through old diskettes, the ones I can open, I found it. It should have been in the first "Best of" volume, even though it's never been published. In fact, only one editor has
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I am happy to assist, if it will help with the work. I will not have Ace bandages on my arms forever and my normal typing speed is quite rapid.
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I am happy to assist, if it will help with the work. I will not have Ace bandages on my arms forever and my normal typing speed is quite rapid.
I'm thinking of taking you up on that, but I still owe you $50, I think, and I've been waiting on a very late check to pay you. I'd hate to ask you to do something else until that debt is clear.
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Sounds like a wretched morning, I hope the day gets better.
This is a Painday, with a capital P
I know you mean a painful day but I find myself picturing a stylish panda.
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I know you mean a painful day but I find myself picturing a stylish panda.
Ha, ha, and hah.
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A coworker had mentioned that while Cursive is an elective class at his son's middle school, even that is on the budgetary chopping block.
This whole silly "not-lost lost poem" affair aptly illustrates my current mental state.
I know days like this. May the rest of this one improve as best it can.
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A coworker had mentioned that while Cursive is an elective class at his son's middle school, even that is on the budgetary chopping block.
I'm fucking sick of this New World.
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He was a genius.
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One of my all-time favorites. I don't go to many concerts, but I saw him three times. The best was an acoustic tour in a small club in North Carolina. Loved his way with words - he used 'naugahyde divan' and 'cummerbund' in the same song, for f's sake! Ah, we won't see his like again soon...
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See, that's a valid criticism.
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