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My friend, Finn (5), informed me of two things. One [with a thoroughly disgusted face]: You smell funny. I suggested it might be sweat. No, he said, it’s something else, like violets.

Two: If I want to increase the number of visitors to my site I should probably post a picture of him. So here goes.

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To Friends: Phone off. Indef. Le disconnect. Come up with bettor ways to contact.

To Friends with Fangs and Fang-to-be-friends: How come so many of my friends are with-imminent-child? Someone Email me when Angela has infantFangchild or labors or kicks mother back to DE. Thx.

To Heath Ledger: Sorry I didn’t write earlier. I meant to write you an e-vigil or something but wondered if it might be crude. Then I saw BMan and realized I was mistaken. There is no such thing as too crude. So sorry. Nice move with all that haunting that your recent death did for that film. Also, nice work being involved with a movie that had at least seventeen consecutive plots. Most films try to run the plots at the same time but this was gutsy/long. I’m into that and appreciate it as a career-move. I especially appreciated the amped up/modified Prisoner’s Dilemma, Katie Holmes’ remarkable transformation into someone way hotter, and two to five of Morgan Freeman’s lines. *

To Jessica Benjamin (friend): Remember the time we saw Batzzzzzzzzzzzz.

*tactfully almost refraining from making no-regrets-about-type-casting jokes right now.

CANTILEVER

OPEN THE PINK STAR

I knew we should have stooped back there
by the pudding station
but the pudding people were so–well–
full of themselves.

The Sphinx didn’t want us to come this far
even though we answered her questions
and threw in a bonus answer: “As honey is to the jaguar.”

And we so well along too–

Coming up is the world’s longest single cantilever span.
I am numb with thrips.

John Ashbery

An excerpt from my 7th grade diary:

January

Dear Diary,

Today was Friday. The week was so long it seemed like three weeks.

On Sunday I am acolyting and then going to the symphony in Denver. A soloist cellist will be there and we don’t have to pay because we will be ushering. We have a four-day weekend. I do at least. Jessica and Cody have a three day weekend.

I got a C on my math mid-term and I’m so happy about it, I thought I failed.

I wore a dress today, too.

Yesterday we did a string quartet for the open house. I was so angry when Em and Emily just left. Mr. Jewell and Ms. Fiori played with us. Ms. Fiori was so GOOD!

I babysat for them  [wonders now: who?] today. They were so mean to me. And it was not fun.

Kelly drinks! Adam told us and I believe him, too.

Anyway on to more important things. I can’t believe Jessica will be in 6th grade next year. There to tarnish the sparkling reputation f the Novacks. Lots of my old teachers already call her Novack. She already got Allen in trouble and Russel. What a year it will be!.

2nd semester starts Wednesday. I hope I don’t get Snowden. I am so afraid of him. But, of course, no one knows that.

I was going through an old diary when I liked Hotani last year, about how he got mad at me [sic]. He looks a lot better with his hair cut.

It is 11:30, I’d better go to bed so I can wake up early.

Until Tomorrow,

Love,

1-Cheesecake_Gingerbread; 2-A_Bad_Bruise_from_camping; 3-Stingray_with_guts_eaten_out_by_gulls; 4-Halloween-season_kick-off_party

Gingerbread+Cheesecake

A Bad Bruise

Stingray With Guts Eaten Out by Gulls

Halloween Season Kick-Off Party

Studying for the GRE using the Barron guide continues to enlighten.

I’ve now learned that the antonym to carnal is spiritual. Predictable, if annoying, perhaps. At least something I can figure out and select from the multiple choices, given the fact that we are thoroughly imbued in a Judeo-Christian (whatever that means) U.S. of A.

But I was a little baffled to learn that the GRE-certified synonym to buxom is plump. We’re really not going for precision of language here, are we? My book suggests “Once you read the definition, use the word in a sentence to help you remember it.” Okay…. eh-ehm: “My, what a healthy-looking baby boy you have. He is so pink and buxom! Does it sleep through the night?”

But what I could not have anticipated. The antonym to celibate is:

a. investing

b. retired

c. commodious

d. dubious

e. married

The answer is e. married.

The Atharva Veda is a composite text, closed about 1500 years ago, which forms 1/4 of the classical Hindu texts. Unlike the other three vedas, the Atharva Veda contains mostly personal prayers and spells, medical and alchemical writings, and coronation rituals. It probably survived on that last one– just another clever way people insinuate religion into wealth and power. Without an accompanying history lesson, however, the spells might be the most interesting.

Love spells for het men to say for het women: May her house sleep. May her horses sleep. May her dog sleep. May her siblings sleep. May her garden sleep. May her in-laws sleep. May [everything except my lover] sleep…

Love spell for het women to say for het men: [First she makes a clay effigy of the man. Then she heats up arrowheads in the fire. She throws the arrowheads at the effigy and says] May he burn for my voice. May he burn for my hair. May he burn for my face. May he burn for my lips. May he burn for my breasts. May he burn for my body… And may I never burn for him!

If all of the rituals for the king were put in to make the text more important and to secure its proliferation, I wonder about this. In contemporary google time, how do people know who to entrust to ensure a tryst? Is it the charming misspelling in the url that will make this page eternal? I found it by searching “ancient love spells” and I know it’s the real deal because it calls for pink paper and everyone knows the “ancients” had pink paper out their ears.

(more facts brought to you by quantitative thinking)

Misc unnamed British researchers have finally disproved second-wave feminism in a SHOCKING new study. These intrepid brainiacs endeavored to get to the bottom of whether girls really prefer pink using the scientific method, a dark room, and a computer. I’m so glad they’re finally working on this pressing issue with godknowswhos funds. The experiment had 1000 British adults look at colorful rectangles on a computer screen and then pick out which they liked best. Then they graphed the results and make conclusions like:

“Boys like blue, girls like pink..” (adult men and women in London are apparently representative of universal girls and boys.)

Somehow they also deduced that the reason that boys like blue and girls like pink is evolutionary.

“…females developed a preference for reddish colors associated with riper fruit and healthier faces.” Meanwhile men don’t need to pick ripe fruit: “For men, thinking about colors was less important because as hunters they just needed to spot something dark and shoot it…”

This reader enjoyed MSNBC’s sparkling coverage of the story— especially the resigned attitude the journalist took to the newly reveal facts. “Boys like blue, girls like pink and there isn’t much anybody can do about it…” Sigh. How true… how will I ever make peace with my inability to overcome inherent desire for pink, Pink, PINK?

Fortunately, the scientist interviewed does bring it back to a universal point I think we can all agree on, giving me a newfound sense of trust in his dedication to scientific inquiry and the pursuit of Truth:

“As for Eve, Hurlbert added, maybe there was a different reason she picked that apple.”

I didn’t know about the bee trouble. They’re flying off and then not going home. “They get disoriented,” J told me. But I had more questions. Why aren’t they going home? To which she had blanket answers like Maybe Global Warming and Or It Could Be Cell Phone Related Radiation. “Sick bees don’t go home when they’re sick. They can’t find the hive. They just keep going and then die, I guess.” I guess she’s right.

I suggested that maybe the bees didn’t want to go back to the hive. They’ve been out in the world and have a new life now. “Maybe it was women’s lib!” I told her.

It’s a big deal because bees are used to pollinate crops– and without them… agricultural nightmare. First the almond crops and then and then.

For corroboration I found this article in the New York Times. I guess it’s honest rather than foreboding that I’m getting my nature news from the business section.

Meanwhile, across the country, my nearest and dearest are abuzz with trauma and possibly wondering where home is.

“Yes, once in a blue moon I actually have #5 -dinner – happen, but I would
trade it in a heart beat for lots of #3 and #6!”

Technomadlibs excitation.