Posted on August 5, 2003 in Book of Days Prose Arcana War
It was evening in California when it happened in Japan.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in Creatures
The top hummingbird met his match today.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in War
The last survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki will be dead inside of ten years.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in OCD Psychotropics
Others pick at their arms, their toes, their face. I pick at a pair of old blisters, my navel, and a spot hidden by my beard.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in Photography Pointers
If you take pictures around where you live, consider participating in the bimonthly Ecotone wiki Photographing Place topics. The topic for August 8 is Green.
For information about formatting your contributions to the wiki, click here.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in Humor? Site News
I got at it again. Dividing and multiplying. Moods is the category undergoing revision now. Given the nature of the subject matter, I am taking a break from it until tomorrow. But I’ve arrived at the following new categories for you to enjoy or avoid:
Can’t talk about moodiness without including Hope. Not if you want to live.
I laughed when I came across a suggestion that I made in last November’s black mood for protecting rhinos from poachers who think their horns possess aprhodesiac properties: feed them Prozac and make it known that they will decrease your sex drive.
Posted on August 5, 2003 in Milestones
George W. Bush has made America an arm of evil. Let us not allow him to triumph.
Posted on August 4, 2003 in Book of Days Childhood PTSD Sorrow & Regret
If only he hadn’t hit me. Not just that day, but many times before that.
Posted on August 4, 2003 in Liberty
Community property exists for all people. All libertarians believe that there should be some laws.
Posted on August 4, 2003 in Site News
Looking over these new headings and counting the numbers gives me an idea of where I might dip for new material to write about
Posted on August 3, 2003 in Book of Days North Carolina
When I packed my things and Ms. Whine to move down the road to Chapel Hill, I knew that it would always be there, my perfect room, a memory of the honey I’d once tasted