We Are The Ones


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Loss of a piece (interlude)


Through a rather unfortunate set of circumstances I lost a whole days worth of writing. In some ways this should not be a problem, just write the whole thing again, right? Wrong. I can’t remember what I wrote, in typical multi-tasking style – I was working on three different pieces, one on my worthiness, plus an essay on my hyper-analytical side. I had managed to save the other two because they had been started earlier in the week. This one on Limerence was just started that day, and while it normally prophylactically saves itself every 5 minutes in the background, apparently in this one case, not where I open a previous post that just had the link in it & type furiously for hours without saving.

No after getting distracted & reading an entire book online, watching the depressing Oscars, I felt sleepy, went to bed, and closed the lid of my computer in the middle of the night when my laptop made these strange clicking noises. That eliminated any trace of my piece on Limerence. Luckily I had copied half of it to put on the blog. However it feels like I gave birth to conjoined twins and had only the skill or technology to save one.

[hits save button] Continue reading

Slave


Rhythm is both the song’s manacle and its demonic charge. It is the original breath. It is the whisper of unremitting demand. What do you still want of me said the singer? What do you think you can still draw from my lips? Exact presence that no fantasy can represent. Purveyor of the oldest secret. Alive with the blood that boils again and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart. How your singer’s blood is incensed by the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouths open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility.

Celebrating the Semicolon in a Most Unlikely Location 


It was nearly hidden on a New York City Transit public service placard exhorting subway riders not to leave their newspaper behind when they get off the train.“Please put it in a trash can,” riders are reminded. After which Neil Neches, an erudite writer in the transit agency’s marketing and service information department, inserted a semicolon. The rest of the sentence reads, “that’s good news for everyone.”


via Celebrating the Semicolon in a Most Unlikely LocationThe New York Times