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Dangerous Compassions

the knock

Today it’s supposed to hit 70–sweet.  Then it will rain tomorrow, is the predication, then cool off, getting back to freezing at night.

Sorry if you don’t care about the weather.  I guess it’s important to me but probably not you.  You have your own weather to think about.  Unless you live in a dome.

I’m listening to Sufjan Stevens’ Christmas music sampler.  Boy is he obsessed with Christmas.  And rightfully so.  Why not.  I like the way he embraces Christmas’ dark side.  He loves it and makes fun of it at the same time.  I enjoy that.  I like doing stuff like that too.

Last night I couldn’t sleep, got up and wrote a poem that I find valuable.  It’s called “the knock.”  I sent it to some people who didn’t reply, though.  Maybe I’m the only one who likes it.

Ming’s setting up the drip irrigation in the backyard garden with the help of our friend R.  Our community member R.  He’s like a brother to me, in good and bad ways, I guess.  Did I ever tell you about how I was reading a book that told me that, in a language in the Middle East somewhere, the word for “cousin” is the same as the word for “enemy”?

This morning my community member J was fantasizing about having her own cooking show.  “I’d watch it,” I said.  “I’d buy a tv just so I could watch it.”

Thanks for listening to me blow of steam.  It’s been almost 10 years that I’ve been blogging.  I’ll have to do something special for my blogiversary.  Maybe I’ll celebrate by migrating over to wordpress like everybody else.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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