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Made of ow.

2:24 AM 6/17/2010
pixy stick in your bag or are you just happy to see us. spilled water all over everything :(.

4:08 PM 6/17/2010
Oh, [personal profile] amberfox, Balboa Park Station, the one I was complaining of last night, is the Muni/BART station that I got so completely fucking lost at all those years ago and I had to call you, the one where I was down a hill what seemed like several blocks in the wrong direction.

10:00 AM 6/18/2010
Bad news:

Mama is a potter, and the Zelinskis are family friends. Their home was lovely, and the thought of handwritten journals going up in smoke, along with everything else...

11:01 PM 6/18/2010
Spent large bits of today tidying. Multiple little boxes make my life better.

Spent other bits of today writing. We'll see how that goes.

Apropos of the radio, I feel it important to note that I spent non-trivial amounts of pondering-time in my teens on White Town's "Your Woman", wondering whether it should be interpreted straight (as it were), or whether it was as queer as I felt it ought to be, but feared would not actually get airtime in relatively-conservative Fairbanks. (But then, see things like Tool's "Stinkfist", which was a common earworm of mine in electronics class.) I ultimately concluded (after a certain amount of research that did not turn up what I wanted to learn) that it didn't matter, and furthermore, that it served me right for attempting to research, and I should be happy with the uncertainty about authorial intent.

Parts of my day that were not good: discovering that my Yahoo address was compromised by spammers. If you got spammed by my Yahoo address, I'm very sorry, and please don't click the link. (My actual email address these days is my Gmail account, with my current ubiquitous username, rather than the username I picked back in '98 or so.) Yes, I have reclaimed the address.

My legs are also still made of ow from nine storeys of courthouse.

Crossposted. comment count unavailable comments.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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