Posted on September 4, 2002 in Weather
One little neuron wakes up finally, takes note of our problem, fires off, and all the desks, workstations, carpets, telephones, plate glass windows, and potted plants sympathize.
Posted on September 4, 2002 in Spirituality and Being
If being a prophet means that you are a person who gets in trouble for telling people what you think is the truth, then I qualify. I think I might have prayed for the gift once, back in the days when I felt that dropping to my knees and murmuring something fervent towards the source of all souls would realize something. Perhaps the asking was a mistake. Either I got the gift and all the japes, grimaces, and groans that get directed at its wielder or I fooled myself into thinking I was on to something. I don’t know. At the midpoint of life, one is hard pressed to know what one has lived for and has yet to live for; if there is even a purpose at all. If I should take up prayer again, I know to ask not only for the gift, but for the satisfaction of seeing the better of my hopes realized and the happier of my suggestions realized.
No good man or woman should die as Cassandra did. Or St. Joan.
Posted on September 4, 2002 in IRC/Chat Social Justice
Yes, all is right in America as we throw billions into preparations for bombing Iraq and let the widows and orphans resort to begging and chasing after vague promises to stay alive.
Posted on September 3, 2002 in Folly Watch IRC/Chat
It isn’t stupidity: it’s poverty that drives the numbers.
Posted on September 3, 2002 in Weather
You’d think that this would have made their records, but I had to run through the whole story all over again.
Posted on September 3, 2002 in Imagination
If I were damned to be inanimate, I would like to be one of the symphonies of Jean Sibelius.
Posted on September 3, 2002 in California Watch
The epicenter appears to be about 12 to 15 miles north of here. 4.6 is a very small earthquake.
Posted on September 2, 2002 in Weather
I suspect that if I fight for it, I will get my air conditioner fixed in time for next summer.
Posted on September 2, 2002 in Encounters
“You know me, Frances,” I remarked dryly, looking out the window at the sheer chocolate marbled face of the San Gabriels. “I don’t like to see people cut up. Especially people I like.”
Posted on September 2, 2002 in Citizenship Weather
While others howled about the baseball strike, I merely asked for the rest of the story: what about the toilet scrubbers, the counter clerks, and the groundskeepers?