Today I feel like a surgeon in Novolazarevskaya. I was on monster deadline Monday and it seeped into Tuesday. Today is some threats writing and comparing newspapers to wet babies. My face itches.
I need to update my syllabus for class Sunday. My friend is doing a food writing semester, brilliant, but I might head towards current events reading regardless. Read some newspapers, think some thoughts. I’m still curious to know what my students think about The Facebook.
PRIVET
Cedar. The scientists wonder how one human being could produce so much mucus. I’ve been meaning to post this picture of a blood orange. The blood orange is the poet’s orange.
my face seriously itches
A power line exploded outside my house the other day. I don’t think there is a transformer on that line but to be fair I have no idea what a transformer is. I was on deadline and there was this explosion that sent a baby ball of fire past my window. I called the fire department and they said that nobody should stand under the wires, so I ran downstairs and yelled at a homeless dude who was stomping on the fire that had started by the pole, and he yelled back but in a playful way, and stomped the fire out and threw some branches around then stood by and made fun of all the bystanders, and rightly so, but I was worried about him under the live wires and everything. Nobody was killed and the city came and fixed the wires. (“The city came.” The taxpayer entity personified into this one guy with a hardhat and a cherry-picker truck.)
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