A collection of small thoughts on the unfortunate thoughts, sights, incidents we run into.
I cannot divine the organizational scheme of the application instructions. I read over and over and each time it feels like the first time–and that’s not in a good way. But they are explicit. As soon as I’m done stapling the original and seven copies I read them once more :“paper-clipped two sided copies.” Now [...]
There I stood on that dirty little remilitarized zone between “I want to know the dirt” and “You shouldn’t be telling me this.” Most students had already left the class when the teacher started to unload her tale of lousy conditions, lack of supervision, neglect, and long-term pay stagnation. I’ve had my complaints with this [...]
Why don’t I mark the anniversary of the last time I laughed so hard my stomach hurt? We do mark happy anniversaries. I’m pretty good about remembering birthdays, even half-birthdays and I’ve been known to be rather creative in extending even further (I once gave a very successful 33 1/3 birthday surprise.) With the crush [...]
I left a work session at the shore-side outdoor kitchen of a swanky suburb and drove to Costco, where I would join in the American hobby of buying too much stuff. I felt a little funny turning off the careful analysis of why our stock market was crashing and the Euro community was convulsing. It [...]
I saw her again. This time I was able to notice the tattoos sprinkled along her neck, shoulders and arms: stars and such as I might strew upon a child’s birthday cake. And there HE is, Karl Marx, reminding me of his brilliant 19th century thought frosted with so much 20th century disappointment. This calf [...]
To find my pulse and my breath, my mind had to overcome a raft of un-yoga-like thoughts. How unfortunate that this guide had trained in the school of routine random use of a place-too-high-in-the-register. Weeks earlier I struggled against the same difficulty with a Pilates instructor. I know my attention to voice, rhythm and breathing [...]
She was a lovely young thing in step-aerobics class, not more than twenty-five, with a tattoo of Karl Marx on her right calf. Big. Yes, that Karl Marx, all bearded and blow-hard. Progressives of the thirties, aren’t you glad that when you were young tattooing was just for hard nights in the Navy? How many [...]