far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Yesterday afternoon: me in the gym lockerroom, post-sweatyness, pulling on clothes. No one else around, the place quiet. I'm buttoning, I'm zipping, lost in thought. I sit down, begin to pull on boots. From the line of winter coats hanging a few feet away, a cheery song starts quietly up. It play for a while -- faint, well-mannered -- then stops. A few seconds later, from a different coat, another song begins, plays quietly for five or ten seconds, stops. As I'm leaving, yet another starts up.

Cellphones, left in coat pockets.

And this is one of the nice aspects of a small town. People can leave cellphones like that, in a coat pocket, knowing the phone will still be there when the coat gets pulled on post-workout, its human heading back out to the day. Same way lots of folks here return a smile on the street, return a hello.

This morning: me, in bed, drifting and out of sleep. The house lay still, absolutely quiet, the world outside quiet as well. And at some point, I became aware of the sound of footsteps off in another part of the building. Quiet, but clear. My eyes opened, I listened, knowing that all outside doors were locked, that I was the only person on premises. The steps ceased, I heard silence, nothing more. The household ghost, first time I've heard it in well over a year.

Rain fell all morning, the temperature hovered around the freezing mark, slowly edging upward as the hours passed, the air feeling soft, almost balmy. Serious, intense rainfall, generating plentiful snowmelt that combined with the rising temperature to produce fog (snow ghosts, I've heard this kind of fog called), drifting in spectral fashion across the fields and hills. A week ago, we had a two or three day long thaw, followed immediately by days of intense, bitter cold. Snowmelt from the thaw gathered in large pools, the ground too hard to absorb it, refreezing when the mercury plunged. A week ago I had a driveway. Now I have a skating rink. A big one.

If this keeps up, I may be forced to round up skates, see if my inner Brian Boitano wants to come out and play.


Madrid, te echo de menos.

rws 6:07 PM [+]

Comments:
You are a poet,
oh runswith.
 
A rhyme my mother used to recite:
He's a poet.
He don't know it.
His toes show it:
They're Longfellows.

 
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
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September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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