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                                    <p>&nbsp;</p>
                                </td>
                                <td width="219">                                            <p><a href="http://www.poets.org/npm/images.cfm"><img src="poster05.jpg" width="216" height="287" border="0"></a></p>
                                </td>
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                                    <p>&nbsp;</p>
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                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
<p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:14pt;"><b>April 2005</b></span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">April is the cruellest month, breeding</span></font></p>

                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Memory and desire, stirring</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Dull roots with spring rain.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Winter kept us warm, covering</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Earth in forgetful snow, feeding</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">A little life with dried tubers.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And I was frightened. He said, Marie,</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">In the mountains, there you feel free.</span></font>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. 
                                            (</span><a href="http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">more)</span></a></font>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Because I do not hope to turn again<br>
Because I do not hope<br>
Because I do not hope to turn<br>
Desiring this man�s gift and that man�s scope<br>
I no longer strive to strive towards such things<br>
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)<br>
Why should I mourn<br>
The vanished power of the usual reign?
(</span><a href="http://www.artvilla.com/wordplay/index.php?p=617"><span style="font-size:11pt;">more)</span></a></font>
                                            <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:9pt;"><a href="http://lorenwebster.net/In_a_Dark_Time/archives/cat_t_s_eliot.html">Loren 
                                            Webster on Elliot.</a></span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     1 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;5<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:25 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e832"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">This 
                        always happens. I woke up this morning feeling less 
                        pain. I always do feel better on the day I'm going to 
                        a doctor of any kind. It wasn't like I was &nbsp;gonna 
                        cancel the appointment. I still had pain. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        was great to see Barbara. I feel better. But I'm sore. 
                        Which is normal. I'm going to go back and see her again 
                        Monday.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        got home and received a wonderful and very helpful gift 
                        from a friend. Which made me feel very blessed. And. 
                        A rejection for the book. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Just. 
                        I dunno. It's hard. It just is. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        didn't do a thing for Black history month. Nothing for 
                        Women's history month. But I am going to be reading 
                        poetry <a href="http://www.poets.org/npm/images.cfm">this 
                        month.</a> I've been feeling the need to 
                        know more about poetry. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">T.S. 
                        is probably pretty cliche as a starting poet for April. 
                        But sometimes ya just gotta go with the obvious. I'm 
                        going to try to put a new poem up every day. And I want 
                        to read poets I don't know. And support poet bloggers. The 
                        Elliot brought up a design issue. I couldn't make the 
                        type small enough to get the line breaks right in the 
                        table. They'll be all right once I move them to the 
                        <a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm">page 
                        for April</a> but ...line breaks are important to poets. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Because 
                        I haven't been able to read blogs I didn't notice that <a href="http://www.ashladle.org/archives/000553.html#000553">Maria 
                        had passed</a> the book meme onto me. <a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/March2005.htm#e1024">Done 
                        it</a>. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        still hurts to sit in the desk chair. And I'm a bit 
                        weepy about the rejection. And (speaking of poets) <a href="http://www.starz.com/se/ssp/schedule/grid_titleview.html?v=5854&e=-1&valid_services=ALL&on_air_title=Il%20Postino">Il 
                        Postino</a> is on the tube. I'm gonna grab my ice pack 
                        (but only for twenty minutes says Barbara) and settle 
                        in. It's such a beautiful movie. &nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">But 
                        one more thing from <a href="http://www.penguinputnam.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,0_1594630097,00.html">Fat 
                        Girl.</a> There's a scene in which she has a friend 
                        over for dinner. They've enjoyed good food and some 
                        wine and they are talking about their love of poetry 
                        and they recite an <a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C020D">Archibald 
                        Macleish</a> together at the end of which she spontaneously 
                        plants a kiss on his cheek. It's a kiss of delight and 
                        the affection born in the after glow of good food and 
                        wine and the shared love of language. The guy moves 
                        away from her and she is embarrassed. I don't have the 
                        impression that she thought it was kiss to begin romance. 
                        It was spontaneous. And then she feels like she has 
                        to make it clear that she would NEVER imagine anything 
                        romantic. I don't know why I mention it. Except I'm 
                        thinking about poetry. And rejection. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        the need for healing.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1332)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1332"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1032" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1032"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1032"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
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                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
<pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown-- 

A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.

                 *

A poem should be motionless in time 
As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, 
Memory by memory the mind--

A poem should be motionless in time 
As the moon climbs.

                  *

A poem should be equal to:
Not true</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea--

A poem should not mean
But be. (<a href="http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C0F0D0C">here</a>)</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">*******</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></pre>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">O my America for whom?<br>
For whom the promises?  For whom the river?<br>
�It flows west!  Look at the ripple of it!�<br>
The grass �So that it was wonderful to see<br>
And endless without end with wind wonderful!�<br>
The Great Lakes: landless as oceans: their beaches<br>
Coarse sand: clean gravel: pebbles:<br>
Their bluffs smelling of sunflowers: smelling of surf:<br>
Of fresh water: of wild sunflowers� wilderness.<br>
For whom the evening mountains on the sky:<br>
The night wind from the west: the moon descending?<br>
Tom Paine knew.<br>
Tom Paine knew the People.<br>
The promises were spoken to the People.<br>
History was voyages toward the People.<br>
Americas were landfalls of the People.<br>
Stars and expectations were the signals of the People<br>
Whatever was truly built the People had built it.<br>
Whatever was taken down they had taken down.<br>
Whatever was worn they had worn -- ax-handles: fiddle-bows:<br>
Sills of doorways: names for children: for mountains�<br>
The People had the promises: they�d keep them.
(<a href="http://www.janegalt.net/blog/archives/001170.html">here</a>)</span></font>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     2 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;11<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:46 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e833"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Reading 
                        <a href="http://www.penguinputnam.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,0_1594630097,00.html">Fat 
                        Girl</a> has been profoundly disturbing for me for more 
                        than one reason. I have had many of the experiences 
                        written&nbsp;in the book. Most fat kids have. Moore 
                        and I both met our fathers late in life and had complex 
                        relationships with our mothers and our maternal grandmothers. 
                        However, her mother and grandmother were cruel, soul 
                        killing and unable to love. I have my issues with my 
                        mom and my relationship with my grandmother was complicated. 
                        But I always knew that they loved me. I give praise 
                        and thanks for my grandmother's refusal to believe that 
                        there was anything wrong with my body. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Moore's 
                        book is about a childhood filled with abuse. Physical. 
                        Emotional. Being fat, in my view, was the least of her 
                        problems. But being fat provided the focal point for 
                        so much hatred. Hatred that came at her and from within 
                        her. If she had been thin I imagine she would still 
                        have a book to write about abuse. She was born into 
                        a family of emotional thugs. She was starved for love 
                        but she was also starved. She describes days and weeks 
                        and months of eating lettuce, dry toast and tuna. And 
                        she was a child. She writes about how she would lose 
                        to a certain point and then not lose more. It's a story 
                        I hear from so many fat people. The one time she was 
                        slender (her word and this was when she was a young 
                        adult) she was living on 900 calories a day and lots 
                        of exercise. 900 calories a day.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Despite 
                        the obvious fact that her's was simply a fat body as 
                        was her father's, Moore talks about the gorging that 
                        she did (and does) as the reason for her weight. Certainly 
                        there is a connection between what she eats and her 
                        weight but the biological choice she is given is to 
                        live on 900 calories or eat normally. In&nbsp;all the 
                        long descriptions of eating that she writes there is 
                        nothing that seems terrible. I read more tonnage of 
                        consumption in <a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/0398/hornbacher/">Wasted.</a> 
                        Moore drinks a soda and that's the reason she's fat. 
                        She eats a candy bar. One. And that's the reason she's 
                        fat. But it's the combination of her DNA and the soda 
                        and candy that is the reason. And it should never have 
                        been made into such a big deal. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">In 
                        the end of the book she writes a lovely description 
                        of her idea of having a fat man as a romantic partner. 
                        It is the most fat positive thing in the whole book. 
                        Until...she puts them both on a diet together.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Moore 
                        says she does not want anyone to feel sorry for her. 
                        See, this is the lesson that fat women learn. The thing 
                        that is <i><b>wrong </b></i>with you is your fault. 
                        So don't go looking for compassion. Ever. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">We 
                        know that fat people are discriminated against. In what 
                        other form of discrimination is the cultural response 
                        for the person to change themselves? &nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">What 
                        I feel for her is much bigger than pity. I feel rage. 
                        I want to find every person who ever called her fat 
                        with the intent to hurt her and destroy her sense of 
                        self and I want to annihilate them. Honestly. I feel 
                        murderous. Imagine the <a href="http://www.dakini.demon.co.uk/wrathful.htm">most 
                        wrathful dhakini</a> and that is who I want to be. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        hope lots of people read this book. There is lots of 
                        truth in it. Truth that should rattle you. But if you 
                        are fat it may also hurt you. It hurts me. I'm glad 
                        I read it but it hurt me. My sorrow for this little 
                        girl who was so battered and the adult woman who cannot 
                        find the love for her body every person ought to have 
                        is overwhelming. She lives in Berkeley. I might be able 
                        to write to her and meet her. But I think she would 
                        find my point of view abusive. She is convinced that 
                        her appetite is the problem. She understands that it 
                        is also genetics but she believes that the onus is on 
                        her to conquer that natural expression of diversity. 
                        So she diets and diets and diets. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">20/20 
                        had a show last night about <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/2020/Health/story?id=630943&page=1">a 
                        young girl with Prader-Willi.</a> I didn't watch because 
                        the commercials for the show suggested that the topic 
                        would be treated with the same fat fearing/hating smugness 
                        that most media uses to talk about people's lives. In 
                        the commercial you see her in a raging temper tantrum. 
                        If you saw this young girl on the street you would imagine 
                        that she is a glutton. And you would be right. Her hunger 
                        knows no bounds. It is not emotional. She is not comforting 
                        herself with food. She is not eating for pleasure. She 
                        has a syndrome that makes it impossible for her to experience&nbsp;satiety. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I'm 
                        glad that researchers are trying understand the syndrome 
                        because this little girl is suffering. But she becomes 
                        part of the obesity epidemic &nbsp;paradigm. The paradigm 
                        in which fat is a one size fits all term. Her life and 
                        the life of Judith Moore and my life and the life of 
                        other fat girls are not one size fits all. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Because 
                        of Moore I know about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archibald_MacLeish">MacLeish.</a> 
                        So, in honor of her wisdom and love of lanquage he is 
                        my poet of the day. There are problems with the line 
                        breaks again so best to read it <a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm">here.</a> 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><b>&nbsp;</b></i></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My 
                        back is better but still hurting. It just is what it 
                        is. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1333)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1333"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1033" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1033"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1033"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
<pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</pre>
                                            <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The very
perfume Kienholtz must have used in his environments on the 1950's--the
slow music, the polyurethane men at the bar, or servicemen in the
waiting room of a house of prostitution, memorabilia about
Eisenhower--all on a brown and red carpet of roses. Your mother's
letters at your bedside table, unopened, overpower the wilting cherry
reds. She follows you to Europe with her drawl and plaint. I practice
the flute, cascading cheerful melodies with low notes on the end. The
Festival, the tinsel, the flash of light in the eyes of the well known
and us, driven into the event by your departure. That day we heard of
the terrorism and shootings and were sorry we had believed you were
going for a rest. Not that you would be involved, but that once there
would find consort among those wronged. We surfaced among costumes on
the promenade, the faces of the hotels marking a period of history when
architecture was sculpture: colonnade and white facings below black
ivory domes, crystal high in the dining rooms' omphalos. We drank
Sambuca under the celebrated sky, blacker and more riddled for your
absence. It was your drink, and we sipped to the hard coffee bean,
split like a nipple; we were surprised--very few people had heard of
it, although it is not uncommon. (<a href="http://www.scc.rutgers.edu/however/print_archive/broumas.html">more)</a></span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:9pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">so that the 
    images that led me down</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">the spiral 
    of forgetting self and listing</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">like a 
    phenomenon in the grip of its weather</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">dazzling or 
    threatening but free</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">of 
    civilization were the links</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">whereby her 
    terror</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">made good 
    its promise to annihilate</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">my will her 
    will I couldn�t tell</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">the 
    difference then as now</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">when making 
    love I can </span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">breathe in 
    forever on that rise</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">indefinite 
    plateau whose briefness</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">like an eye 
    in unself-conscious and the sphere</span></font></p>
    <p style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
    </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">of the 
    horizon its known line. </span></font></p>
                        <p style="margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:0.0001pt; margin-left:0cm;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11pt;">(From 
                        Eye of Heart <a href="http://www.arlindo-correia.com/260700.html#Eye_of_Heart">here</a>)</span></font></p>
                        <p style="margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:0.0001pt; margin-left:0cm;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     3 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;11<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:37 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e834"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My&nbsp;poetry 
                        month project is supposed to be about me learning about 
                        poets and poetry. I have my favorites and I have some 
                        awareness of poets even when I haven't read them. So 
                        I want to use the time to&nbsp;read more and find more 
                        as well as honor the ones I already know and love. I 
                        just want to read poetry every day.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        was interesting to read the MacLeish but it didn't move 
                        me in a big way. And I am thinking about why. Unlike 
                        other kinds of writing I don't have a way to talk about 
                        why I do, or do not, like a given poem. It's a much 
                        more visceral response. Case in point. <a href="http://www.sapphosbreathing.com/archives/000572.html">Cleis 
                        picked up on the project</a> and posted some of the 
                        poetic collaboration of Olgus Broumas and Jane Miller, 
                        which did ring for me. But I can't say why I liked it 
                        any more than I can say why I didn't like the MacLeish. 
                        It really isn't as simple as like/didn't like. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        MacLeish was declarative and had a familiar form. Everything 
                        about <a href="http://www.scc.rutgers.edu/however/print_archive/broumas.html">the 
                        Black Holes Black Stockings</a> was vivid and the form, 
                        the how they did it, was exciting. I can't say I know 
                        what it's about. But I know it feels thrilling. I wonder 
                        about the words and the meaning. I impose my own meaning. 
                        I don't have as much space to that with the MacLeish, 
                        or with the Elliot for that matter. But the Elliot is 
                        saying something that has a deep personal meaning for 
                        me in a way I feel. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I'm 
                        sort of fumbling around with this project. I'm somewhat 
                        dependant on the web for the project. I did find <a href="http://www.arlindo-correia.com/260700.html">more 
                        Olgus Broumas</a> and <a href="http://www.poetry.org/issues/issue6/text/cnotes/jm.htm">more 
                        Jane Miller.</a> </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">This 
                        morning I was listening to <a href="http://www.codepinkalert.org/National_Actions_Salinas.shtml">the 
                        people holding a save the library&nbsp;read in at the 
                        Cesar Chaves library in Salinas.</a> I value libraries. 
                        I have many fond memories of libraries. But I don't 
                        avail myself of them the way I might, which is mostly 
                        about being a slow reader. I thought I might see if 
                        <a href="http://sfpl.lib.ca.us/librarylocations/branches/northbeach.htm">my 
                        branch</a> has any poetry.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My 
                        back is better but the mornings are still bad, the computer 
                        chair is still painful and I'm just glad I have another 
                        appointment. My mood is really unformed. (Like my thinking 
                        about the poems.) I think I'm fending off a crash. I 
                        watched <a href="http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/ramdass/">Fierce 
                        Grace</a> yesterday, which was another one of those 
                        perfect timing Netflix arrivals. I met Ram Das years 
                        ago and, of course, read Be Here Now. He's a sweetheart. 
                        So I'm trying to ignore my melodrama and take care of 
                        my back. I don't think I'm really being here now. I 
                        think it's more like I'm being neither here, nor there. 
                        Which, may be as good as it gets right now. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I'm 
                        tired. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1334)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1334"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1034" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1034"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1034"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0cm;" align="justify"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><b>stars in a blender</b></span></font></p>
<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">driving down stars to a black pitch<br>can't remember </span></font></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">being so out of alignment,<br>they rattle and burn in this shaky blender.</span></font></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">wasted hallelujahs shatter my windshield.<br>was it a woman, deer or water?</span></font></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">dust tastes like eternity on my lips<br>only hair and fingernails remember.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
<h3 align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">all these faces</span></font></h3>


<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">I guess I should read again.</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">All these faces have lost the dimension</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">to convince me of their reality; </font></span></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">all our plots have become entangled,</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">though too insignificant to move much.  </font></span></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">(If we�re lucky we might get a little soft porn in the pile up) </font></span></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> in the woods</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> they�re sanding something down to essence;</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> I hear the friction though I can�t see it.</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">My lover too is never near enough.</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">She�s off playing the flute in a vacuum</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">for deaf mutes who try to catch her voice</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">with tongues flapping like Venus fly traps. </font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">at my doorstep</font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> I heard her once loud and clear </font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans"> </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">(later she taught me Braille so I could touch what wasn�t there)  </font></span></p>

<p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">it was the cry of a lone Mallard, </font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">lost from the Mallard Convention, </font></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;" align="justify"><span face="Times New Roman" style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">crossing the busy street without a crosswalk.</font></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;"><span face="Times New Roman"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><a href="http://raysweatman.typepad.com/youliveyourlife/">Ray 
                        Sweatman</a></font></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:0in;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     4 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;1<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:33 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e835"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Oh. 
                        Well. Gee. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        do feel better. Mornings are still painful but I can 
                        move more and be up for longer and have more range of 
                        motion and I will get an adjustment later and it will 
                        be better and ...</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        think I'm slap happy. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        just. I just. I'm. I dunno. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">There 
                        have been ways in which I was waiting to hear about 
                        the contest. And now I have. So now I have to pull it 
                        together and do whatever it is I'm going to do next. 
                        And I can. And I will. And I still feel sore and tired. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        never feel like I understand the difference between 
                        taking care of myself and indulging my limitations, 
                        fears and confusion. It's like that know what I can 
                        change, know what I can't and know the difference thing. 
                        Sometimes it's harder than other times. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It's 
                        late enough in the day so the first dose of Advil and 
                        ice pack therapy has kicked in. There's a little time 
                        before I need to leave for my appointment. I'm trying 
                        to come up with something to do. I did the lighting 
                        candle, incense, fill water cup, put apple in place&nbsp;part 
                        of my ritual. I'm a little afraid to try to do yoga 
                        just now</span></font>,<font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> 
                        although I was able to do a few stretches. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Slow. 
                        Slow. Slow. I'm so slow. I wasn't always slow. I was 
                        even sort a fast sometimes. I don't even want to be 
                        fast. Just not so slow. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Actually 
                        I don't really mind being slow. I guess. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><a href="http://raysweatman.typepad.com/youliveyourlife/">Ray</a> 
                        is my poet of the day. Just coz. I've posted Ray's stuff 
                        before. I'm crazy about him. I will admit that the line 
                        about being so out of alignment had a personal meaning 
                        for me right now. That's what we do. We grab other people's 
                        language and use it for our own purposes. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1335)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1335"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1035" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1035"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1035"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
<pre>&nbsp;</pre>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:12pt;"><b><a href="http://www.poets.org/npm/books/bookdetail.cfm?45442B7C000C07050973">Meaningful Love</a></b></span></font></p>
                        <pre><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">What the bad news was
became apparent too late
for us to do anything good about it.

I was offered no urgent dreaming,
didn't need a name or anything.
Everything was  taken care of.

In the medium-size city of my awareness
voles are building colossi.
The blue room is over there.

He put out no feelers.
The day was all as one to him.
Some days he never leaves his room
and those are the best days,
by far.

There were morose gardens farther down the slope,
anthills that looked like they belonged there.
The sausages were undercooked, 
the wine too cold, the bread molten.
Who said to bring sweaters?
The climate's not that dependable.

The Atlantic crawled slowly to the left
pinning a message on the unbound golden hair of sleeping maidens,
a ruse for next time,

where fire and water are rampant in the streets,
the gate closed�no visitors today
or any evident heartbeat.

I go rid of the book of fairy tales,
pawned my old car, bought a ticket to the funhouse,
found myself back here at six o'clock,
pondering &quot;possible side effects.&quot;

There was no harm in loving then,
no certain good either. But love was loving servants
or bosses. No straight road issuing from it.
Leaves around the door are penciled losses.
Twenty years to fix it.
Asters bloom one way or another.</span></font></pre>
                        <pre><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">                   <a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=242"> -John Ashbery</a></span></font></pre>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     10 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;4<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:42 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e836"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My 
                        back got kinda worse. And I got kinda depressed. And 
                        I just haven't had it in me to write a post. I'm not 
                        sure I have it in me now. There's only so much you can 
                        say about being in pain and being in a bad mood. All 
                        the funerals and weddings and wars and rumors of wars 
                        come to me from the TV and the radio. Nothing moves 
                        me. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">But 
                        my back is feeling better and I'm hoping the rest of 
                        me will follow. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">One 
                        extra nice thing happened. I got to meet <a href="http://www.amptoons.com/blog/">Barry.</a> 
                        He's in town for a comics convention. I was worried 
                        because I wasn't able to leave the apartment but he 
                        was kind enough to come over. That pulled me outta my 
                        funk for a bit. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My 
                        poetry project has been ignored. I went looking for 
                        someone and found the Ashbery. He's someone I've heard 
                        <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/redzenradish/">Krisitna</a> 
                        talk about and I liked the idea of morose gardens. Suits 
                        my mood.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        am working on my mood. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1336)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1336"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1036" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1036"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1036"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
<p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;O THOU whose exit wraps in boundless woe, <br>For Thee the tears of various Nations flow : <br>For Thee the floods of virtuous sorrows rise <br>From the full heart and burst from streaming eyes, <br>Far from our view to Heaven's eternal height, <br>The Seat of bliss divine, and glory bright ; <br>Far from the restless turbulence of life, <br>The war of factions, and impassion'd strife
                                            </span></font></p>

                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">From every ill mortality endur'd, <br>Safe in celestial </span></font><i><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Salem</span></font></i><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">'s walls secur'd. <br><br> <br>E'an yet from this terrestrial state retir'd, <br>The Virtuous lov'd Thee, and the Wife admir'd <br>The gay approv'd Thee, and the grave rever'd ; <br>And all thy words with rapt attention heard ! <br>The Sons of Learning on thy lessons hung, <br>While soft persuasion mov'd th' illit'rate throng. <br>Who, drawn by rhetoric's commanding laws, <br>Comply'd obedient, nor conceiv'd the cause, <br>Thy every sentence was with grace inspir'd, <br>And every period with devotion fir'd ; <br>Bright Truth thy guide without a dark disguise, <br>And penetration's all-discerning-eyes. <br><br> <br>THY COUNTRY mourns th' afflicting Hand divine <br>That now forbids thy radiant lamp to shine,</span></font>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-</span><a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C02010D"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Phillis 
                                            Wheatly
                                            </span></a></font></p>
                        <p>&nbsp;<span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     12 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;2<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:59 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e837"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It's 
                        the little things. Ya know? Like being able to get in 
                        bed and be comfortable, turn over with out crying, get 
                        out and stand up and walk. I still have some tightness. 
                        But I am just way better. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        need to do laundry. In the time it took me to sort it 
                        my back began to ache. I took some Advil and rested 
                        and ... it's OK. The laundry room is down a buncha&nbsp;stairs. 
                        It feels so good to move but I'm still worried about 
                        the pain.&nbsp;Back to the task of trying to navigate 
                        what I can do and accept what I can't do. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        haven't been swimming for a variety of reasons but there 
                        is <a href="http://www.thd.org/issuesandprojects/poolandplayground.html">a 
                        pool</a> a block away from me that is supposed to reopen 
                        soon. I love swimming. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/n/a/2005/04/12/national/a071840D75.DTL">Andrea 
                        Dworkin.</a> Well. I am sad to say that I haven't read 
                        much of her writing. I have read some but it was years 
                        ago. I am not an anti- porn feminist but I took her 
                        ideas to heart. As too often happens I will probably 
                        read more now that she has passed. I don't have a personal 
                        reaction but I do have a reaction to the idea that she 
                        isn't being treated kindly on the net because of the 
                        radical nature of her feminism. (And, I should say that 
                        I haven't read much of it. I'm still having trouble 
                        sitting at the computer.) </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        makes me think of conversations I've had with my dyke 
                        friends when I have romantic feelings for a man. There 
                        is a way in which I lose myself when I feel attraction. 
                        There is a way in which I make allowances. There is 
                        a way in which I don't ask much of my male friends and 
                        romantic interests in terms of feminism. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        last time I had feelings for a man it was because of 
                        his web writing. It was the way he wrote, the music, 
                        art and books that&nbsp;he loved, the artistry of his 
                        page. I never knew what he looked like and I still felt 
                        attraction for him in my body. We exchanged some e-mail 
                        and things got a little confused. I'll never know exactly 
                        why things got as bad as they did. I thought we would 
                        have a friendship if nothing else. And in the last communication 
                        between us, along with the discussion of what we did 
                        and did not feel for one another and how we were dealing 
                        with all that, was an altercation about a post I made 
                        about feminism. It confused me then. It confuses me 
                        now.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">These 
                        text based relationships are odd. We read each other. 
                        How well do we read? It seems so delicate and fraught. 
                        I like to think that if we just keep talking things 
                        will work out but I know that isn't always true. I know 
                        it from my on line world and my off line world. The 
                        number of possible misunderstandings is just ... phew. 
                        HUGE.. But there are things that feel absolute. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        am a feminist. I don't really get people who can't say 
                        that. I know some people don't like to be too political. 
                        I know some people like to say that the issues of feminism 
                        are really the issues of us all and&nbsp;therefor fall 
                        into humanism but that always feels like a side step 
                        to me. The issues of people of color fall into a broader 
                        humanist stance as well but we talk about racism. We 
                        need to talk about specifics. We need the language of 
                        the isms to unseat the assumptions of the dominant language 
                        structures. We need to have the difficult conversations. 
                        I do. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Feminism, 
                        like everything else, is not a one size fits all concept. 
                        When I say I'm not an anti porn feminist I mean that 
                        I want us to remember the body. The body with its smells 
                        and needs and inconveniences. Obviously we have a head 
                        and a heart and a spirit and we like to think we are 
                        more than our body and I suppose in some very real ways 
                        we are. But we have these bodies. We are, all of us, 
                        sometimes profane, if we pay attention. No doubt most 
                        porn would make me want to pull my eyes out of my head. 
                        No doubt most of it lacks any fundamental humanity. 
                        No doubt most of it is done for the male eye and serves 
                        the objectification of women. But, there are women in 
                        the industry who are doing their own thing. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Yesterday 
                        Deb took me to get my adjustment and then we went to 
                        get some dinner. A table of six people, three m/f couples 
                        sat next to us. They were loud but I didn't really care. 
                        I was feeling less pain and eating good food with a 
                        great friend. I wasn't going to be bothered. But they 
                        were loud. One man told story after story in which a 
                        &quot;good looking&quot; woman was featured. I didn't 
                        listen to it all but I kept thinking about the three 
                        women at the table. I wondered how it made them feel 
                        to hear story after story about &quot;good looking&quot; 
                        women. There's no way for me to know. I know how I felt 
                        listening to these bits and pieces. I felt the need 
                        to be on guard. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It's 
                        interesting that just the mention of Dworkin brings 
                        all this out of me. It comes from a scant reading of 
                        her, done years ago. I do have a deep and personal response 
                        to the ideas of feminists, feminism and what is radical. 
                        I think of myself as radical. I want to be radical. 
                        Do I think I lost the opportunity to have a romance 
                        because of that? Oh. Not really. There was more going 
                        on in all that mess. Things that I may never understand. 
                        But the part that was about feminism cut into me and 
                        left me feeling less hopeful about the world.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Because 
                        these things matter. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Barry 
                        wrote a post about <a href="http://www.amptoons.com/blog/archives/2005/04/10/fat-men-and-their-thin-wives-in-cartoons/">fat 
                        men and their thin wives</a> in cartoons and sitcoms. 
                        We talked a bit about it when he was here. It rivals 
                        his <a href="http://www.amptoons.com/blog/archives/2003/01/26/the-absent-fatso/">Absent 
                        Fatso</a> post in terms of coolness. I don't watch a 
                        lot of those shows so I feel like I can't jump into 
                        the conversation but as I read through the comments 
                        I feel this thing that I so often feel when fat hatred 
                        is the topic. Everything seems beside the point. In 
                        some ways I feel that people just don't want to take 
                        the bias against fat people seriously. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Barry 
                        and I talked about how men can be fat because (in general 
                        cultural terms) men are allowed to have appetite. Men 
                        are allowed to have bodies. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Yesterday, 
                        at the restaurant, Deb and I had desert. As it arrived 
                        the guy with all the stories about &quot;good looking&quot; 
                        women turned to look and the whole table looked with 
                        him. I somehow knew they would. I had a brownie hot 
                        fudge sundae thing. As he turned I held up the first 
                        spoonful and asked if he wanted a bite. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Yes 
                        I did. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        was acting out. I was saying I wasn't ashamed to be 
                        eating. I was saying I was willing to share my pleasure. 
                        I was owning the part of me that experiences pleasure 
                        and wants to share pleasure and is able to experience 
                        and share pleasure. Quite a bit of stuff and none of 
                        it clear to him. He stammered something about them getting 
                        their own and turned back. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Funny. 
                        When Barry was here we talked about blog popularity. 
                        He said I write long paragraphs. It made me laugh. I'm 
                        still laughing. It is somewhat true that blogging is 
                        short attention span writing and sometimes I write in 
                        a long winded and all over the place manner. Today my 
                        unruly and profane body is feeling better and with that 
                        relief comes a torrent of thought. It is what it is. 
                        Want a byte? </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Heh. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I'm 
                        posting some Phillis Wheatly today. Because as I was 
                        writing all this I was thinking about women and oppression 
                        and isms and poetry. I have read some her poetry and 
                        I don't really like it that much. It is too formal for 
                        me. I have read that she hid messages in her text but 
                        I haven't the wisdom to parse them. But I thought of 
                        her because she was a woman, a woman of color and a 
                        slave. Owned. It brings the same tension to my body 
                        that I felt overhearing the stories about &quot;good 
                        looking&quot; women. It would be nice to post her poetry 
                        because I like it and not in service to some political 
                        agenda. But. These things matter. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And. 
                        One more silly thing. If you are reading because you 
                        came her from Barry's link and you want to see a picture 
                        of my drivers, look <a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/rdoor.htm">here.</a> 
                        &nbsp;I gotta go get the laundry. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1337)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1337"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1037" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1037"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1037"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://knitandcontemplation.typepad.com/dao_wallace_stevens/2005/02/last_look_at_th.html"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;">Last 
                        Look at the Lilacs</span></b></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">&nbsp;</font></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">To what good, in the alleys of the lilacs,<br>O caliper, do you scratch your buttocks<br>And tell the divine ingenue, your companion,<br>That this bloom is the bloom of soap<br>And this fragrance the fragrance of vegetal?<br><br>Do you suppose that she cares a tick,<br>In this hymeneal air, what it is<br>That marries her innocence thus,<br>So that her nakedness is near,<br>Or that she will pause at scurrilous words?<br><br>Poor buffo!&nbsp; Look at the lavender<br>And look your last and look steadily,<br>And say how it comes that you see<br>Nothing but trash and that you no longer feel<br>Her body quivering in the Floreal<br><br>Toward the cool night and its fantastic star,<br>Prime paramour and belted paragon,<br>Well-booted, rugged, arrogantly male,<br>Patron and imager of the gold Don John,<br>Who will embrace her before summer comes
</span></font>
                        </p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><b><a href="http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C07020B71"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The Emperor of 
                        Ice-cream.</span></a></b></font></p>
<pre><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal.
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.</span></font></pre><pre><span style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">&nbsp;</font></span></pre>
<p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C07020B77"><span style="font-size:11pt;">From 
                        Thireteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><b><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">VIII</span></font></b></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I know noble accents
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
But I know, too,
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">                    - </span><a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C07070C"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Wallace  Stevens</span></a></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">                     </span><a href="http://lorenwebster.net/In_a_Dark_Time/archives/cat_wallace_stevens.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Loren Webster on Stevens</span></a></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</pre>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     13 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;12<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:27 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e838"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Four 
                        loads of laundry. An hour of folding, at the end of 
                        which there was still a pile of pants that I thought 
                        I'd do today but did just before I went to bed in some 
                        reflex need to feel complete. And no relapse of the 
                        back pain. I was a bit stiff and achy but I did the 
                        ice/heat/Advil routine. And I changed the sheets on 
                        the bed. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">This 
                        morning I turned over on my stomach and stretched my 
                        legs out. It's my favorite way to sleep but even last 
                        night when I tried it my back spasmed. This morning 
                        I could do it for the first time in two weeks. I was 
                        filled with relief and gratitude. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">There's 
                        still a load of laundry and the freezer needs defrosting 
                        and it would be good to vacuum. All this stuff that 
                        people do and it's no big deal but being able to do 
                        them is filling me with an almost giddy sense of joy. 
                        You know there is that saying about after enlightenment 
                        the dishes and for me, today, the dishes feel like enlightenment. 
                        I may be grouchy and discontent all too soon but not 
                        today. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        am a little grouchy about the <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2005/04/07/entertainment/e123204D96.DTL">conscription 
                        of Cookie Monster into the food fear gulag</a>. I suppose 
                        I am over stating but I was just thinking about appetite 
                        and who is and isn't supposed to have it. There's nothing 
                        terrible about kids being encouraged to eat fruits and 
                        vegetables. I can think of a million ways to <a href="http://www.edibleschoolyard.org/homepage.html">do 
                        that</a>. But Cookie Monster is about something else. 
                        The Count counts. Oscar is a grouch. And the Cookie 
                        monster loves cookies. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">When 
                        I was stuck in my chair I had cravings for things that 
                        I don't usually want. If someone would have brought 
                        me a box of Krispy Kremes I woulda eaten it in one sitting. 
                        I didn't really have an appetite and I wasn't able to 
                        cook so I wasn't eating much. But the cravings didn't 
                        feel like they were about hunger. I would have eaten 
                        them. And I probably would have gotten a stomach ache. 
                        And so? </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        always feel the need to qualify when I write about things 
                        like this. I know there are fat people who eat a lot 
                        of what I would call junk. I know there are people struggling 
                        with compulsive over eating who would have found a way 
                        to get those Krispy Kremes and eaten them and more and 
                        then felt guilty. I never want to shame those people. 
                        But ya know, it's the Cookie Monster thing. Some people 
                        just love cookies. It really is OK. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Now. 
                        Let me qualify some more. If you took me to <a href="http://www.cafedumonde.com/main.html">Cafe 
                        Du Monde</a> right now I would eat some beignets. Oh 
                        yeah baby. Laissez les bon ton roulette! Gimme sumthin 
                        mister and all like dat der. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        dunno. I just think we need the moments of excess. We 
                        need the people who are excessive. Too much moderation 
                        is just too much moderation. It is as much of a trap 
                        as anything else. And all this fear of food is going 
                        to mess these kids up. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Anyway. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">My 
                        whole poetry project things is suppose to be about reading 
                        more poetry by new poets and not just my old favorites. 
                        But awhile ago I jumped to <a href="http://knitandcontemplation.typepad.com/dao_wallace_stevens/">this 
                        site</a> from a link on <a href="http://ahappening.typepad.com/">K's</a> 
                        blogroll. Interesting woman. Has a <a href="http://knitandcontemplation.typepad.com/">knitting 
                        blog</a>. Seems to be into <a href="http://www.amma.org/">Amma</a>. 
                        And she has this whole blog for Wallace. I first heard 
                        Wallace from a blues and jazz playing piano playing 
                        and singing guy who used to get ripped and recite the 
                        Emperor of Ice Cream. I had a crush on the guy despite 
                        the fact that he was kinda mean and in some ways women 
                        hating. I was young. I stopped liking him after he did 
                        all my dope and used my tooth bush. But I still smile 
                        when I read the poem. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1338)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1338"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1038" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1038"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1038"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><strong><a href="http://www.mousemusings.com/musings/writing/index.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Because She Must</span></a></strong><a href="http://www.mousemusings.com/musings/writing/index.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><br>
</span></a><span style="font-size:11pt;">
              </span><em><span style="font-size:11pt;">and because she just doesn't care anymore</span></em></font></p>
            <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">on the dark cold street<br>
              at night<br>
              alone<br>
              the wind whispered<br>
              &quot;try to stay alive until you die&quot;<br>
              she fumbles past crumbling doorways<br>
              the same dead child feeling<br>
              running from men with horrible gifts<br>
              or psychotic mothers<br>
              inventing her own self</span></font></p>
            <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">barefeet toughened by shards of glass<br>
              her pain becomes pleasure<br>
              and all hunger disappears<br>
              as she drowns in the darkness<br>
              just a child<br>
              in the twilight<br>
              a child<br>
              believing in nothing at all<br>
              except the words of the wind</span></font></p>
            <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">she will survive the invisible day<br>
              when they uncurl her legs<br>
              and spread her knees<br>
              when her anguish becomes pleasure<br>
              because it must<br>
              and there is no hunger<br>
              and there are no math classes<br>
              for runaways<br>
              and she becomes a disgrace to her sex</span></font></p>
<h4>  

 
<b><span style="font-size:11pt;"><font face="Lucida Sans">          </font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.mousemusings.com/weblogs/2005/02/sublime-paradox.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Sublime Paradox
<br>
                        </span></a></font></b></h4>

 <font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">remnants of the distant sky<br>where civilized stars dance wildly<br>illuminating hints <br>of primitive patterns<br><br>the coincidence of opposites<br>dissolve<br>into the twilight of non-duality<br>emanations<br>dissolutions<br><br>water wheels turn<br>into a nebulous sea of bliss<br>while feral instinct<br>is trapped<br>in suffocating pages<br>of imposed morality<br>until<br>the unsustainable light<br>flickers and fades<br>into a circle unseen<br>yet unbroken
                        </span></font>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;- 
                        </span><a href="http://del.icio.us/clroy/poetry"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Cyndy Roy</span></a></font></p>
                                            <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April 14 </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005&nbsp;12<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:27 PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e839"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></pre>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        tried to catch up on my blog reading and in the process 
                        learned from <a href="http://veronicalynne.com/">Veronica</a> 
                        that <a href="http://www.allconsuming.net/">All Consuming</a> had been down and was now back and 
                        better. Better because you can add the movies you're 
                        watching and music. It is a little confusing. Instead 
                        of sections for what you have read there's just one 
                        big list of everything you add. I had a lot of fun with 
                        it yesterday. I added my Netflix stash and the five 
                        discs in my disc player, which meant that I had to change 
                        them because they were the same five that had been in 
                        there for way too long. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        wish I was listening to music now but I'm listening 
                        to the debate on the bankruptcy bill. Just this morning 
                        I heard a bit on the news about how people are paying 
                        their taxes with their credit cards. Taxes, medical 
                        bills, groceries. My own debt is mostly about buying 
                        food with the cards but I will admit to what might be 
                        called frivolous spending. I buy books. I could go to 
                        the library. I guess. The debate is interesting. I'll 
                        listen to music later.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        doesn't seem like you can move the stuff in your All 
                        Consuming things around. So, if I change the discs and 
                        listen to them later I'll just have them on the list 
                        twice. I guess. Not that it matters. I just get a kick 
                        out of these web things. He added an &quot;other material&quot; 
                        section, which I haven't been able to figure out. It 
                        might be cool to make note that I am consuming scrambled 
                        eggs on a corn tortilla and green tea.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        I needed to work on the page because I had to fix my 
                        gaffs. I never changed the month on the yesterday link. 
                        I'm just not that good at this web design thing. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Also&nbsp;found 
                        in the catch up reading was <a href="http://mousemusings.com/weblogs/">Cyndy's</a> 
                        link to the <a href="http://www.poets.org/almanac/index.cfm?45442B73315D5A78562D305909046743332E7D295637290A0465464B5B685124470B74057405">thirty 
                        ways to celebrate poetry month</a>. I hope I remember 
                        <a href="http://home.nyc.gov/html/poem/home.html">keep 
                        a poem in your pocket day.</a> Cyndy is my poet of the 
                        day. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">There's 
                        a show in rotation on PBS stations right now: <a href="http://www.kqed.org/programs/tv/niot/index.jsp">Not 
                        in Our Town</a>. It's both deeply troubling and also 
                        encouraging.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">So 
                        all the laundry is done and the freezer is defrosted. 
                        Oddly enough the freezer was harder on my back than 
                        all of the laundry put together. I had to get up every 
                        twenty&nbsp;minutes to empty the water tray. I started 
                        the project too late in the day. At midnight I was still 
                        pulling out chunks of ice. Today I feel tight and achy 
                        and I have an ice pack on even as I write. I'm not worried. 
                        I'll get an adjustment tomorrow and some of this is 
                        just middle aged back stuff. I think I can do yoga again. 
                        It'll all be OK. &nbsp;Still hafta a run the vacuum. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1339)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1339"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1039" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1039"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1039"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                            <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><u><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The Red Spider</span></font></u><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><BR>so much depends<BR>on the small red spider<BR>crawling 
the circumference<BR>of a lost silver<BR>Public Storage key<BR>left 
glinting<BR>on the ground<BR>outside the poetry workshop<BR></span></font></pre>
            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>

            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">here<BR>it is the spider<BR>who unlocks<BR>the cold bins<BR>of put away 
things<BR>who calls us out<BR>onto the thin<BR>crimson web of words<BR>where me 
might catch<BR>our private winged losses<BR>and hold them close<BR>against our 
heated cheeks<BR>until they glow into<BR>hot communal embers<BR>that warm the 
tribe<BR>of the found<BR></span></font>
            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>

            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">-Kristina Krause</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1024"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     15 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;10<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:10 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e840"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">There 
                        is something about <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2005/04/14/national/w094639D40.DTL">this</a> 
                        that chills me to the bone. The newscast that I heard 
                        went out of its way to say that it was all really bad 
                        guys. But. 10,000? In one day? Something about that 
                        feels creepy. It's not about law enforcement. It's about 
                        sending a message. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        then there was <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2005/04/14/national/a083413D57.DTL">the 
                        news from Oregon.</a> Stooooopid!!</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/n/a/2005/04/14/national/w124221D86.DTL">bankruptcy 
                        bill passed</a>. It's such a mean spirited bill. Stuff 
                        about <a href="http://elandslide.org/elandslide/index.cfm?campaign=debt">here</a> 
                        and <a href="http://www.truthout.org/docs_2005/041505Y.shtml">here</a>. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I had my own weird stuff with banks 
                        and credit card companies yesterday. I didn't do anything 
                        wrong but I sure got treated like I did. And as the 
                        truth began to reveal itself I got no apology. It always 
                        bugs me because I know these are just people doing their 
                        job. They aren't the company, or the bank. There is 
                        no one to confront. Today I have to do more work to 
                        clear it up. I'm not worried about it. I'm just pissed 
                        off. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Bad vibe day.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Except 
                        there was this one thing. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">You 
                        may, or may not, remember my plant. I only had one plant 
                        and it was not doing well. There was a moment a year 
                        ago, or more, when it was basically a tall stick in 
                        a pot and I thought about tossing it. And then it came 
                        back. Lots of shiny, green leaves. Around Christmas it dropped some 
                        leaves again but most of the time it just looks great. Yesterday 
                        I repotted it with lots of new soil in a blue ceramic 
                        pot I found in our back garden area. I keep looking over at it. Tall 
                        and green. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Sometimes things get better. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        was going to try and write a poem about how much depends 
                        on a tall green plant. Especially after reading <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/redzenradish/">Kristina's 
                        LJ.</a> I put her poem as the poem of the day. There 
                        is another of Kristina's poems&nbsp;<a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/USFMFA.htm">here.</a></span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1340)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1340"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1040" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1040"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1040"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><b><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.tc.umn.edu/~hreh0001/kaufman.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">MORNING JOY</span></a></font></b><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.tc.umn.edu/~hreh0001/kaufman.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><br>
</span></a><span style="font-size:11pt;">
<br>
      Piano buttons, stitched on morning lights.<br>
      Jazz wakes with the day,<br>
      As I awaken with jazz, love lit the night.<br>
      Eyes appear and disappear,<br>
      To lead me once more, to a green moon.<br>
      Streets paved with opal sadness,<br>
      Lead me counterclockwise, to pockets of joy,<br>
      And jazz.
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-</span><a href="http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/g_l/kaufman/about.htm"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Bob 
                        Kaufman</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1025"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     18 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;9<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:47 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e841"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">On 
                        Sunday mornings I listen to <a href="http://sundaysalon.org/">Larry.</a> 
                        But I knew that he wasn't going to be on this week since 
                        he is dealing with some <a href="http://sundaysalon.org/article_text.asp?articleid=262">health 
                        issues.</a> I turned on the show to see who they had 
                        as a substitute and what a surprise! It was <a href="http://www.mattgonzalez.com/">Matt</a>! 
                        That was fun. He has a very sibilant quality in his 
                        speech. Easy to recognize. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I'd 
                        been thinking about him lately. Wondering what he was 
                        doing. And there he was on the radio and again on the 
                        nightly news talking about <a href="http://www.mattgonzalez.com/photos/images/matt_gonzalez_marla.gif">his 
                        friend Marla Ruzicka</a> who was just <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/04/18/MNGMFCALUC1.DTL">killed 
                        by a car</a> bomb in Iraq. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">SF 
                        has a small town feel some times. Interesting how people 
                        gather to support one another&nbsp;around illness and 
                        death. Just like in a small town. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        he had some poetry slam people on the show. I love slam 
                        poetry. So I did listen to poetry on Sunday. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        think my syntax was off the other day when I wrote that 
                        my poetry project had been ignored. I didn't mean it 
                        had been ignored by others. I meant it had been ignored 
                        by me. I wanted to really read poetry this month. But 
                        I haven't done much. Maybe a bit more than I usually 
                        do. I jump to poetry links from <a href="http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~ek867/wood_s_lot.html">Wood_s 
                        Lot</a> often. And that's where I found the Kaufman. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Poetry 
                        slows me down. And if my mind is agitated or spaced 
                        out I can't read poetry. My mind has been both agitated 
                        and spaced out at the same time for a few days. Money 
                        issues. Ya know how that can be. I'm still preoccupied 
                        with it. My thinking is like mud. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">But 
                        I am declaring myself fully recovered from the back 
                        stuff today. Even over the weekend I was tight and sore, 
                        especially in the morning. I was still grabbing an ice 
                        pack and some Advil first thing. Today I was able to 
                        put the dishes from the dish rack away. I haven't been 
                        able to stand up that long in the morning. Today I could 
                        and I made my eggs some <a href="http://www.aidells.com/sausages/descriptions/details.cfm">apple 
                        sausage</a> and green tea. And I think I'm going to 
                        put the Advil away. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        did Armageddon shopping yesterday. The apartment is 
                        more or less clean. Although I still haven't run the 
                        vacuum. Maybe today. I have fruits and vegetables and 
                        chocolate. So. I'm better. I'm going to finish this 
                        and do my ritual and some yoga. Back to &nbsp;... uh 
                        ... normal. Or something. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1341)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1341"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1041" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1041"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1041"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/poems/body.html"><b><font color="black" face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Body 
                        of Life</span></font></b></a></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font color="black" face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">1. 1990<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											One by one 'til<br> 											 											 											 											I'm the only one<br> 											 											 											 											left in the photo<br> 											 											 											 											we took in Gay Paree,<br> 											 											 											 											trill the final syl-<br> 											 											 											 											lable, thrill to<br> 											 											 											 											pretending we're<br> 											 											 											 											the Revue Negre,<br> 											 											 											 											funking so fiercely<br> 											 											 											 											our black clothes stained<br> 											 											 											 											our curvature, fab-<br> 											 											 											 											ulous flames let loose<br> 											 											 											 											in the city of lights.<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											One by one you leave<br> 											 											 											 											the picture, nix nix nix,<br> 											 											 											 											my moonpie face left<br> 											 											 											 											shining there. Au Revoir,<br> 											 											 											 											or like they say<br> 											 											 											 											in Sula, &quot;Vwah!&quot;, bright<br> 											 											 											 											as a bottle, the beau-<br> 											 											 											 											tiful childen are<br> 											 											 											 											leaving me to trill<br> 											 											 											 											the final syllable,<br> 											 											 											 											this beautiful-<br> 											 											 											 											ugly world.<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											2. 1983<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											The other girls taught shy me to be a diva,<br> 											 											 											 											to preen, to plump my titties up like they did,<br> 											 											 											 											to work it. We danced. We wanted the body<br> 											 											 											 											of life and I lived for a year in that<br> 											 											 											 											body, the body of life, in D.C.,<br> 											 											 											 											in the African diaspora:<br> 											 											 											 											Chocolate City.<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											That was my slut year.<br> 											 											 											 											All the men I didn't sleep with, all I did,<br> 											 											 											 											all the lunch dates, all the dinners, all<br> 											 											 											 											the whistles on the streets of Chocolate<br> 											 											 											 											City, all the men who called me Baby,<br> 											 											 											 											called me Girl, like the one who made me tuna-<br> 											 											 											 											fish and tried to suck my breasts, then asked<br> 											 											 											 											me to type his resume. My buzzer<br> 											 											 											 											in the middle of the night, my phone, a man<br> 											 											 											 											who greased me head to toe with Lubriderm,<br> 											 											 											 											a Cape Verdean who appeared on busses<br> 											 											 											 											and trains as if by divination, sketched<br> 											 											 											 											me naked, never spent the night. I told<br> 											 											 											 											one man how much I loved Betty Carter<br> 											 											 											 											and he said, I hope you're not one of those<br> 											 											 											 											bulldaggers. A lonely Nigerian<br> 											 											 											 											who cooked fufu groped me on the sofa,<br> 											 											 											 											his across-the-ocean wife and daughter<br> 											 											 											 											watching from their picture frames.<br> 											 											 											 											Rum and dancing, too many things in my mouth,<br> 											 											 											 											genitals cobbled with passion or disease, bright<br> 											 											 											 											clitoris a phantom limb, remembering --<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											I moved away to Boston and would call<br> 											 											 											 											you for the update: Renee was a samba<br> 											 											 											 											star at Brasil Tropical, shimmied<br> 											 											 											 											on Brazilian TV. Denise graduated<br> 											 											 											 											school and made the foreign service, moved<br> 											 											 											 											to Jamaica, to bungalow, with<br> 											 											 											 											a man and a maid Pansy. &quot;Who's sick?&quot;<br> 											 											 											 											I'd ask and you'd tell me, and who died,<br> 											 											 											 											and one day you said, &quot;And I'm living with AIDS.&quot;<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											There was Kemron in Kenya.<br> 											 											 											 											You were saving to get it.<br> 											 											 											 											You met with a support group<br> 											 											 											 											of other black men. You had<br> 											 											 											 											a Dominican boyfriend,<br> 											 											 											 											same as me. Mostly you felt<br> 											 											 											 											O.K., but you hated<br> 											 											 											 											your medicine. You were fat,<br> 											 											 											 											but you still took class.<br> 											 											 											 											No, Tyrone wasn't sick. But David was dead.<br> 											<br> 											 											 											 											It was Njambi who called me to say,<br> 											 											 											 											you were back in shape. You performed<br> 											 											 											 											for the visiting Eminence of Senegal,<br> 											 											 											 											the next day went into the hospital,<br> 											 											 											 											the next day died. It made a romantic<br> 											 											 											 											story, but you're still gone. &quot;I love when you call me<br> 											 											 											 											because you're alive,&quot; you said once,<br> 											 											 											 											one of your few friends still alive.<br> 											 											 											 											I'm writing this poem to say how we were,<br> 											 											 											 											that we danced and fucked and sweated, loved<br> 											 											 											 											ourselves and each other, lived fiercely,<br> 											 											 											 											knew joy. I'm writing to say,<br> 											 											 											 											I got lucky, you were my friend, you<br> 											 											 											 											knew me as a girl, I am a woman,<br> 											 											 											 											now, with my little piece of your story,<br> 											 											 											 											the year of the body of life.</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font color="black" face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;- 
                        </span></font><a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/faculty.html"><font color="black" face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Elizabeth 
                        Alexander</span></font></a></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/poems/meeting.html"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;">Meeting</span></b></a><span style="font-size:11pt;"> 
                        (for Lorna)</span></font></p>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It rains. The blistered skin of this city<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;cools. Summer has been an endless circle<br>
of labors -- the heat, the rituals of our lives.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At noon, the rain stammers to a drizzle<br>
<br>
and the thin glow of light catches the bodies<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of women moving quickly; black women<br>
bent low, hurrying through the damp cool.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And I watch a body, the promise of a smile<br>
											<br>
in the round of her hips, the rapid nervous<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;pace of her, and I take her in as one does<br>
with a familiar movement -- a vaguely comforting<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;pattern. This has happened before,<br>
											<br>
a moment with a stranger, imagining<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;that she too will turn, grin -- and I think<br>
of the delicate ribbons of a woman's<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;laughter as she comes closer. On the edge<br>
of sin, the naked welcome, I see it is you<br>
<br>
and I feel like a strange man waiting to touch<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;you with words. In this indiscretion<br>
I want to say I fear losing you; I am<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;angry at me for being that strange man<br>
											<br>
taking you in as a predator does. Your smile<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;disarms me, its trust and pleasure in our<br>
accidental meeting -- and the rain gathers<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;again in the sky. You hand me the car keys.<br>
											<br>
We say something about money and time,<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and you hurry away, your hips -- my hips,<br>
the bloody world's hips -- swinging sweetly<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;while I cradle in me the terrible fear of love.<br>
											
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-</span><a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/faculty.html#dawes"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Kwame 
                        Dawes</span></a></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1025"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     19 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;11<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:42 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e842"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        turned on channel 26 yesterday morning and there was 
                        a building commission meeting. A&nbsp;&nbsp;woman was 
                        giving public testimony saying something about false 
                        accusations of sexism after which one of the commissioners 
                        said that it wasn't useful (I'm paraphrasing) to deny 
                        a woman's feelings and the woman who had been speaking 
                        began to yell and the chairperson began to bang the 
                        gavel and I became completely enthralled. It seemed 
                        so early in the morning for such drama. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">So. 
                        The mayor had appointed <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?m=/c/pictures/2005/04/13/ba_building05_ch.jpg&f=/c/a/2005/04/13/BAGKBC7G251.DTL">a 
                        woman</a> as the head of the department of building 
                        inspection and the commission was there to confirm it. 
                        At a previous meeting the <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/c/a/2005/04/13/BAGKBC7G251.DTL&o=0">head 
                        of the SF development association</a> had spoken in 
                        favor of keeping the man who has been in charge and 
                        not replacing him with &quot;pregnancy brain.&quot; 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Uhhuh. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        woman is pregnant and in that same hearing four others 
                        sited her pregnancy as a reason to not appoint her. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">This 
                        is one of those times when, for me,&nbsp;there are two 
                        things that are true at the same time. Is there such 
                        a thing as pregnancy brain? Well....</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I 
                        knew a woman once who warned me to never admit that 
                        I had my period because people&nbsp;would use it against 
                        me. I was dumb founded. It doesn't seem like a source 
                        of shame. How could it be used against me? I am more 
                        emotional around that time. I sometimes feel like I 
                        lose physical dexterity. I may be in some stage of menopause 
                        and I am spacy often. There is just no doubt that hormones 
                        have an impact on us. So? </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">For 
                        ever and ever women have been working when they had 
                        a period, or were pregnant, or were in menopause. For 
                        all women it's a different experience and it's a different 
                        experience from day to day. It's just part of life. 
                        No one of any gender is in perfect form at work every 
                        day. If a man has a bad day they are just though to 
                        be having a bad day. But I think men have hormone cycles 
                        of their own and I also think that men track the cycles 
                        of their partners and are impacted. The idea that a 
                        woman's hormones are debilitating or make her unable 
                        to preform a job is just wrong headed. And I really 
                        thought everyone knew that. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">But 
                        not Joe. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Now. 
                        I like Joe. He's bombastic and irascible and I almost 
                        never agree with him but I like his largesse. Is he 
                        sexist? Oh yeah. In that very well intended but ultimately 
                        obtuse and really just not getting it kind of way. And 
                        it gets worse. Joe likes to speak in verse from time 
                        to time. He wrote a poem questioning the mayor's sexual 
                        preference in light of the mayors divorce and support 
                        of same sex marriage. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">So 
                        the <a href="http://www.sfgov.org/site/bdsupvrs_index.asp?id=4637">president 
                        of the board</a> (and my district supervisor) is introducing 
                        <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/04/13/BAGKBC7G251.DTL">a 
                        resolution to condemn the comments.</a></span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <table align="center" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;" border="0" width="332">
                            <tr>
                                <td width="326">
                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:9pt;">The recent pattern of public comments 
degrading women and lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered individuals by 
members and leaders of the Residential Builders Association of San Francisco 
must be addressed and firmly disavowed by the city of San Francisco in order 
to reconfirm our commitment to fighting all forms of bias and intolerance.
                                    </span></font></td>
                            </tr>
                        </table>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">OK. 
                        Well. Yeah. But make no mistake. This is a lot of&nbsp;political 
                        chest thumping. I support and join in any condemnation 
                        of such language, especially in civic dialogue. But 
                        ... it was said in PUBLIC&nbsp;testimony by a member 
                        of the PUBLIC. A leader of an influential private organization 
                        but still a member of the PUBLIC. So, I have mixed feelings. 
                        I don't have mixed feelings about how wrong what he 
                        said is. I am, in some ways, glad to live in a city 
                        where the city government publicly and formally condemns 
                        such speech. And it makes me a little tense. Because 
                        people need to be able to speak their mind. If you've 
                        listened to him talk you know him as he is. He is an 
                        atavism to an old, fading way of thinking. (Please. 
                        I hope. May it be so.) If he had been a board, or commission 
                        member I would be in complete support. But this is about 
                        power. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        <a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/04/19/BAGKJCB1VR1.DTL">commission 
                        confirmed the woman</a>. <a href="http://www.sfgov.org/site/uploadedfiles/bdsupvrs/bosagendas/a041905.htm">Today's 
                        board meeting</a> should be interesting. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        there I was. Trying to get back to my ritual and yoga. 
                        I actually did the ritual and yoga while listening to 
                        the whole thing. And later that day there was a <a href="http://www.sfgov.org/site/bdsupvrs_page.asp?id=29796">raucous 
                        committee meeting</a> in which <a href="http://www.sfgov.org/site/bdsupvrs_index.asp?id=22661">Chris</a> 
                        <a href="http://www.sfgov.org/site/bdsupvrs_page.asp?id=31312">challenged 
                        the success</a> of <a href="http://carenotcash.com/">care 
                        not cash</a>. I love that guy. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Sometimes 
                        I question my own radicalism. Am I making excuses for 
                        Joe? I don't think I am. I don't support what he said. 
                        I support his right to say it and be stupid in public. 
                        On the other hand, I do like that the public parent 
                        is giving him a scolding. Joe says his &quot;pregnancy 
                        brain&quot; comment is just a matter of fact. And there 
                        is some truth to the idea of hormones impacting&nbsp;clarity 
                        of thought. But it's overstated, not useful and ultimately 
                        a way of keeping women out of power. So then ... </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Awhile 
                        ago I watched <a href="http://www.thelifeofdavidgale.com/">The 
                        Life of David Gale.</a> I enjoyed the movie but there 
                        was something that troubled me. Something that took 
                        me days to articulate. It was the women. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">David's 
                        wife spends a lot of time in Europe working and probably 
                        having an affair. When she divorces him she leaves him 
                        in economic ruin and takes his son away from him. He 
                        refuses to give a female grad student a passing grade 
                        so she falsely accuses him of rape and he loses his 
                        job as a result. His friend and fellow anti-death penalty 
                        activist is long suffering and loyal. The reporter is 
                        smart enough to solve the mystery but apparently not 
                        smart enough to have gas in her car. There is a cool 
                        fat woman in the film played by the wonderful and beautiful 
                        &nbsp;<a href="http://www.thewb.com/Faces/CastBio/0,7930,861,00.html">Melissa 
                        Mc Carthy</a>. But she is also less than smart and dignified. 
                        And we watch the same footage of the violent and gruesome 
                        death of a woman over and over. There's no real character 
                        development of the women. They are all in service to 
                        the life of David Gale. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It's 
                        a movie against the death penalty. It portrays the fact 
                        that people are wrongly convicted. Not many of them 
                        are white, male, philosophy professors but ... </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Does 
                        the wife take the son because of David's alcoholism? 
                        Because she believes the false rape accusation? Because 
                        she's just an evil withholding bitch? Does the student 
                        accuse David of rape because she really wanted to have 
                        sex with him or because she's a manipulative, entrapping&nbsp;bitch? 
                        Is the friend so hot for David that she just has to 
                        have sex with him? And isn't he smart? He's the victim 
                        of all these bad women and so he manipulates the judicial 
                        system and a female reporter into an elaborate drama 
                        in which he is martyred. What a guy! I like the point 
                        the movie makes.&nbsp;I just wish it was made with less 
                        misogyny. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Sexism 
                        feels&nbsp;so entrenched. I am aware of my own. There 
                        is part of me that wants to make a joke about testosterone 
                        brain. It would feel smart and snappy and gotcha back. 
                        It might be fun. But it would lack dignity. Elegance. 
                        It would be bad faith. Sexism makes us all mean. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><a href="http://harmoniousnote.blogspot.com/">Sonya</a> 
                        sent me a <a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/poems.html">poetry 
                        link</a> on which is poetry by the mighty <a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/faculty.html#clifton">Lucille 
                        Clifton</a> who wrote one of <a href="http://www.ilovekat.com/clifton.htm">my 
                        favorite poems</a>. And <a href="http://www.cavecanempoets.org/pages/faculty.html#sonia">Sonia 
                        Sanchez</a>. But I knew them so I picked a couple that 
                        I didn't know. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1342)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1342"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1042" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1042"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1042"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.thing.net/~grist/l&d/lmeltzer.htm"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        Veil</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">so sheer between what's right<br>
   and will be wronged<br>
   let's say the Taiwanese couple<br>
   on stage tonight in their launderette<br>
   washing and drying clothing<br>
   watched by two teenagers<br>
   in a non-descript Duster<br>
   windows fogged over with<br>
   potsmoke, fear and talk<br>
   with one gun between them<br>
   and an idea to rob<br>
   not for money<br>
   but to knife that veil<br>
   between them<br>
   and the good life
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
   <font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">In the hole he counted heartbeats<br>
   but got scared they'd stop<br>
   listened to broken pipes<br>
   under the shit-hole in the floor<br>
   finally read the Bible they give you<br>
   but his religion wasn't in a book<br>
   unless it's the telephone book<br>
   so he stayed alive counting<br>
   letters, commas, periods
                        </span></font>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
<b><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The veil</span></font></b><p>

                        <font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">   existed before he was born<br>
   and between his arising<br>
   shadowed the world he moved through<br>
   reaching for dim forms he thought<br>
   brought light</span></font></p>
                        <p><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-</span><a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/David.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">David 
                        Meltzer</span></a></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1025"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     20 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;9<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:03 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e843"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">After 
                        all that drama,&nbsp;<a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/04/13/BAGKBC7G251.DTL">the 
                        resolution</a> was referred to committee by a conservative, 
                        pro development supervisor. I can't imagine what they 
                        can do in committee except talk about it some more and 
                        maybe change the language. It will be interesting. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        was quite a relief (cough) yesterday to hear the news 
                        that being fat <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/04/20/MNG24CBSJD1.DTL">might 
                        not be the death sentence</a> previously thought. Poor 
                        diet and lack of exercise are still bad for you. Isn't 
                        that interesting? Who knew? </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <table align="center" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;" border="0" width="326">
                            <tr>
                                <td width="320">
                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:9pt;">The latest study had another surprising finding: People who are modestly 
overweight but not obese have a lower risk of death than people of normal 
weight. Indeed, the fewer deaths from being modestly overweight partially 
canceled out the deaths from obesity.
                                    </span></font></td>
                            </tr>
                        </table>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Of 
                        course, I am immodestly fat so I'm still gonna die. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I've 
                        been pretty lucky when it comes to finding health care 
                        practitioners who aren't fat phobic. I have a few bad 
                        stories, most fat people do, but I have a cool doctor 
                        now. I just can't afford to see her. I wonder how that 
                        effects my health.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">When 
                        I was at Barbara's for the adjustment I was bemoaning 
                        the fact that I've been doing yoga and some other exercise 
                        and eating so well lately. Why did my back go out? She 
                        said that vegans who run miles every day have problems. 
                        That's the kind of thing I often say when I'm trying 
                        to make my point about weight and health. But with my 
                        own body I sometimes lose perspective. I'm lucky to 
                        have someone who can talk me back to sane. My weight 
                        may contribute to my back ache. All I ask is that it's 
                        seen as part of the problem and not the whole problem. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        editors of <a href="http://www.booksite.com/texis/scripts/oop/click_ord/showdetail.html?sid=3471&isbn=0156030225&music=&buyable=0&assoc_id=">Scoot 
                        Over Skinny</a> are on <a href="http://www.kpfa.org/">KPFA</a> 
                        right now. Since they rejected two pieces of writing 
                        from me I'm feeling a little resistant. But the conversation 
                        is less than satisfying. The editor talks about how 
                        he's losing weight by eating right and exercising more. 
                        There's lots of joking and the word monster has been 
                        used to twice. To be fair they are questioning assumptions 
                        about fat people. It's making me sad. Not the assumptions. 
                        I know them. The amount of internalized oppression. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1343)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1343"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1043" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1043"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1043"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></p>
<pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><b><a href="http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C07060E70"><span style="font-size:11pt;">American Sonnet (10)</span></a></b></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><i><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">after Lowel</span></font></i></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">our mothers wrung hell and hardtack from row
      and boll. fenced others'
gardens with bones of lovers. embarking 
      from Africa in chains
reluctant pilgrims stolen by Jehovah's light 
      planted here the bitter
seed of blight and here eternal torches mark  
      the shame of Moloch's mansions 
built in slavery's name. our hungered eyes
      do see/refuse the dark
illuminate the blood-soaked steps of each  
      historic gain. a yearning
yearning to avenge the raping of the womb 
      from which we spring</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></pre>
<pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></pre>
<pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C07060E76"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Bedtime Story</span></a></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">bed calls. i sit in the dark in the living room 
trying to ignore them

in the morning, especially Sunday mornings 
it will not let me up. you must sleep 
longer, it says

facing south
the bed makes me lay heavenward on my back 
while i prefer a westerly fetal position 
facing the wall

the bed sucks me sideways into it when i  
sit down on it to put on my shoes. this
persistence on its part forces me to dress in 
the bathroom where things are less subversive

the bed lumps up in anger springs popping out to
scratch my dusky thighs

my little office sits in the alcove adjacent to 
the bed. it makes strange little sighs
which distract me from my work 
sadistically i pull back the covers 
put my typewriter on the sheet and turn it on

the bed complains that i'm difficult duty 
its slats are collapsing. it bitches when i 
blanket it with books and papers. it tells me
it's made for blood and bone

lately spiders ants and roaches
have invaded it searching for food</span></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">             -</span><a href="http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C070400"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Wanda Coleman</span></a></font></pre>
                        <pre style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</pre>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1026"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     25 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;2<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:36 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e843"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        word depression annoys me. It's so imprecise. It's like 
                        bad water color in which colors have bled together. 
                        I have this laundry list of difficult feelings but none 
                        of them are the reason for the curled in a ball way 
                        I get. It's about everything and nothing. It's always 
                        been this way. And I always get to a point when I know 
                        I have to roust myself. Somehow. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        so. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Then.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">In 
                        the words of <a href="http://www.lordbuckley.com/">Lord 
                        Buckley</a>. &quot;When you get to it and you can't 
                        do it, well. There you jolly well are aren't you? &quot;</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Heh.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I've 
                        been watching <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/greysanatomy/">Grey's 
                        Anatomy</a> for the last few weeks. I haven't really 
                        decided if I like it or not but last night they did 
                        a pretty cool thing. There was a thread in the show 
                        in which a new doctor nods off during a surgery while 
                        holding a heart. She nicks the heart with her finger 
                        nail but doesn't say anything and if&nbsp;it comes to 
                        light she may be fired. At one point she's talking to 
                        the woman's husband who says his wife was in the best 
                        shape of her life because she had lost a hundred pounds 
                        in the course of a year. It isn't clear whether the 
                        possible nick is to blame for the difficulty the woman 
                        has in recovery but the loss of muscle with rapid weight 
                        loss was mentioned and the fact that no one noticed 
                        because the woman was still 200 pounds was mentioned 
                        in very exact language. &quot;It didn't matter what 
                        she weighed, she was an anorexic.&quot; </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">When 
                        people talk about health and weight they forget about 
                        this part. Weight loss may be good for some people but 
                        how they lose the weight may not be. I'm always OK with 
                        the idea that we need to move more and eat better quality 
                        food. And some people may lose weight with a few small 
                        changes. And that's OK. I just don't think weight loss, 
                        in and of itself, &nbsp;is a positive goal. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        show was all about complexity. Things go wrong. We make 
                        bad choices. We are all responsible and we all have 
                        to live and die with who we are and what we do. I found 
                        it comforting.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1344)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1344"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1044" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1044"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1044"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1026"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     26 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;7<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:50 
                                                    PM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e844"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</font></a></span></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">The 
                        last restaurant I worked in was a small neighborhood 
                        dinner place owned by a married couple. Very talented 
                        chefs but not very nice people. It was like being the 
                        kid with parents who liked to fight. She worked the 
                        grill and he worked the salad/desert station. I worked 
                        saute. The kitchen was small and I was literally between 
                        them, which wasn't always a happy place. But the food 
                        was very fun to cook. They shopped every day at the 
                        farmers market and hauled in the stuff we needed themselves. 
                        That's a great way to run a restaurant. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">It 
                        was the first semester I was in college. I did three 
                        classes on Monday, class on Tuesday and Wednesday morning 
                        and went to work five nights a week. Sunday was my only 
                        day off but I was usualy reading or writing for a class. 
                        It was a lot for a mid forties something grrrl but it 
                        was also fun. On one menu I had a dish that was <a href="http://www.foodsubs.com/Lentils.html#French%20green%20lentils">French&nbsp;lentils</a> 
                        with carrots and onion topped with some kind of fish. 
                        I think it was bass. There was something else but I 
                        can't remember. I just remember that I had a professor 
                        whose skin was the color of those lentils and I had 
                        a crush on him. I would stand at the stove filling pan 
                        after pan with lentils thinking about him. It was a 
                        very alive time. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">There's 
                        new owner now. She does pretty average diner food but 
                        she is very nice. I've eaten there twice. I ate there 
                        this morning. I had to go in for a fasting blood test 
                        and I was hungry afterward. And tired. Having blood 
                        taken makes me tired. So I ate eggs and a bagel and&nbsp;drank 
                        coffee. It's always odd being somewhere that isn't what 
                        it was when you were part of what it was. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Tonight 
                        I'm eating red bell pepper pappardelle from <a href="http://www.rockridgemarkethall.com/pastashop/products_pasta.html">The 
                        Pasta Shop</a> with fresh peas and ham. It's fresh pea 
                        season and I'm crazy for them. I'm still sulking. But 
                        maybe I'm almost done. Fresh peas. I'm tellin ya. It 
                        might be the peas. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1345)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1345"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1045" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1045"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1045"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans,Arial"><a href="http://www.newsfromnowhere.com/stafford/wspoem03.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Just 
                        Thinking</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans,Arial"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Got up on 
		a cool morning. Leaned out a window.<br>
		No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held<br>
		for awhile. Some dove somewhere.</span></font></p>
	  <p><font face="Lucida Sans,Arial"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Been on probation 
		most of my life. And<br>
		the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments<br>
		count for a lot�peace, you know.</span></font></p>
	  <p><font face="Lucida Sans,Arial"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Let the bucket 
		of memory down into the well,<br>
		bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one<br>
		stirring, no plans. Just being there.</span></font></p>
	  <p><font face="Lucida Sans,Arial"><span style="font-size:11pt;">This is what 
		the whole thing is about.</span></font><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.williamstafford.org/pages/writings.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">William 
                        Stafford. </span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/s_z/stafford/stafford.htm"><span style="font-size:11pt;">More</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><a href="http://lorenwebster.net/In_a_Dark_Time/archives/cat_william_stafford.html"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Loren 
                        on Stafford</span></a></font></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1027"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     27 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;8<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:23 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e845"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></font></a></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">When 
                        I was eighteen Mom did a cross stitch for me that said 
                        - today is the first day of the rest of your life. K 
                        put it on a board and framed it. I've lugged it around 
                        ever since. It hangs on the wall between the closet 
                        and the bathroom. It's the first thing I see as I&nbsp;shuffle 
                        out the bedroom door in the morning. If I look. Which 
                        I don't </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Last 
                        night, in bed, I told myself to look at it in the morning. 
                        But I forgot. I moved around in rote mode. Turned on 
                        the radio and made my eggs and tea. I woke up a little 
                        earlier than I usually do and I feel like the morning 
                        is infinitely&nbsp;expanded. Only a half an hour difference 
                        but it feels big. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">When 
                        I sat down to write I remembered the cross stitch and 
                        my intention to be affirmative. I don't think of myself 
                        as negative, or positive. Even in a deep and protracted 
                        sulk I often have moments of clarity. I don't really 
                        need to go look at it. I do need to be engaged with 
                        my life. And. Maybe I can be. Starting this minute. 
                        </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Got 
                        the Stafford following <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/redzenradish/68909.html?mode=reply">a 
                        link from Kristina</a>. The poem she linked was compelling. 
                        It is important for awake people to be awake. The line 
                        breaks are not right in the side bar poem but they are 
                        <a href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm">here</a> 
                        and at the place where I linked the poem. It's true. 
                        A bad line break may discourage me back to sleep. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Heh.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">And 
                        the darkness around us is deep. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1346)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1346"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1046" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1046"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1046"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                            <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><b><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">I would knit you socks</span></font></b><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
                        </span></font></p>
<p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">
<i><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">For DK<br>
Inspired by Pablo Neruda's </span></font><a href="http://www.stephenmitchellbooks.com/transAdapt/fullWomenExcerpt04.html"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Ode to My Socks</span></font></a></i><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">
                        </span></font></p>
<p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">
                        <font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">If I knew the pattern, I would knit you socks<br>
with the days of the week knitted in, and your<br>
initials, and clocks with the time of day.<br>
<br>
I would knit in poems of love yet to be,<br>
the words of all the songs,<br>
and colored threads that the birds <br>
would steal to make nests.<br>
<br>
I would knit the dictionary into your socks,<br>
the lives of the saints, and <br>
the meanings of dreams.<br>
<br>
And I would wind them 'round with sunlight and honey,<br>
teas made from rosehips and coriander<br>
and prayers.<br>
<br>
They would keep you warm and safe,<br>
buoyed by love and soft wool,<br>
never let anything harm you,<br>
never wear out.<br>
<br>
Not knowing how to knit such socks,<br>
I write poetry.<br>
and practice. </span></font></p>
                        <p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                        <p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-</span><a href="http://www.willa.com/weblog/2005/04/i-would-knit-you-socks.htm"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Willa</span></a></font></p>
                        <p class="quote" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">&nbsp;</span></font></p>
                                                    <p><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1027"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">April
                                     28 
                                                </font></a><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">2005 
                                                &nbsp;9<font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">:19 
                                                    AM</font></font></span><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"> </span></font><span class="rss:item"><a id="e846"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</a></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Sometimes 
                        I start to watch something on TV and I know right away 
                        that I oughta turn it off. Sometimes I do and sometimes 
                        I don't. But I usually know when I should. Such is the 
                        case with <a href="http://www.nbc.com/Revelations/">Revelations.</a> 
                        I keep watching it and I keep wondering why. I read 
                        the book. I thought they might be able to do something 
                        interesting with it. But there's some obscure and simplistic 
                        notion of good and evil that just bugs me. And then 
                        there's the girl who is saved from having her organs 
                        harvested so that she can be the voice box of the lord. 
                        It might not have bugged me if they hadn't accused the 
                        doctors of wanting the organs for profit. Seems like 
                        a bad message for the time. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">On 
                        the other hand, I hate commercials and either mute them 
                        or look at other channels while they're on. And because 
                        of this I found <a href="http://www.pbs.org/strangedays/index_flash.html">Strange 
                        Days on Planet Earth.</a> I like it so much I might 
                        <a href="http://www.netflix.com/MovieDisplay?movieid=70027547&trkid=181026">get 
                        the disk from Netflix</a> and watch it again. Going 
                        from the weird good guy/bad guy thriller version of 
                        the end of days to the more real what happens when we 
                        don't pay attention to the earth version of the end 
                        of days gave me the spins. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;">Strange 
                        Days is also full of hope and stories about interesting 
                        people doing good work. There is a farmer who talks 
                        about planting trees on land he had previously farmed 
                        to protect the river against chemical run off from his 
                        crops. Run off that might have made its way to the ocean 
                        and the <a href="http://www.pbs.org/strangedays/episodes/troubledwaters/experts/deadzones.html">great 
                        barrier reef.</a> He says he might make less money but 
                        it makes him happy and if he's happy he might live longer. 
                        Yep.</span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:11pt;"><a href="http://www.willa.com/">Willa</a> 
                        wrote a poem for Poetry month and I love it. She says 
                        she took inspiration from <a href="http://www.stephenmitchellbooks.com/transAdapt/fullWomenExcerpt04.html">Neruda</a> 
                        and links to a site where the poem is taken from a book 
                        titled: <a href="http://www.stephenmitchellbooks.com/transAdapt/fullWomen.html">Full 
                        Woman, Fleshy Apple, Hot Moon.</a> I heard about the 
                        book awhile ago and put it on the wish list just because 
                        of the title. </span></font></p>
                        <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                                                    <p align="justify" style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><SCRIPT type="text/javascript">get_comment_link(1347)</script> <noscript></span></font><a href="http://rateyourmusic.com/yaccs/commentsn/b=90000008560_and_e_is_1347"><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;">comment</span></font></a><font face="Lucida Sans"><span style="font-size:10pt;"></noscript> 
                        </span></font></font></p>
                                                    <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><span class="rss:item"><a id="e1047" href="http://www.fatshadow.com/April2005.htm#e1047"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1">Permalink</font></a><a id="e1047"><font face="Lucida Sans" size="1"> 
                                     </font></a></span></p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
                        <p style="line-height:100%; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;">&nbsp;</p>
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