i was wandering downtown a few nights ago in search of a jamacan coffee, but the lights were out and looked like old europe has closed shop.
Category: field notes
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co-worker: what are you eating? your so healthy. that’s not like you to eat something like that. where’s that from?
me: it has jalapenos and monterey jack cheese…
co-worker: oh, i can’t believe it.
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Landon Godfrey reading at the Flood Reading Series, Sunday March 29, 2009.
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Justin Gardiner reads at the Flood Reading Series, Sunday March 29.
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Amanda Gardiner reads at the Flood Reading Series, Sunday March 29.
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Mark Prudowsky introduces the Flood Reading Series, Sunday March 29, 2009, with a poem.
Small Press Month
now that it is almost over, march is small press month. yeah, me too. didn’t know of any events in my area.
Nuggnet
i’d call 911 if they ran out of nuggs too.
I want that mug!
love ❤
i knew there was a reason i don’t eat at mcdonalds.
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she says, it’s an emotionally heavy week. i say, yeah.
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the difference between endurance and perseverance is that one requires action.
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yes, i realize i’m a snob. i prefer the term elitist.
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there are 10 sticky notes on my macbook pro… i can barely fine the keyboard… so much for gtd.
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how about i tell you a truer truth & call it fiction?
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my feet are cold. i’m reading a book. the author says the muse is dead… like santa claus and elvis.
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joined a couple poets @wedge brewery (http://www.wedgebrewing.com/) after the reading. surprisingly busy for a sunday afternoon.
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excellent mix of unca/warren wilson faculty/student reading @flood gallery fine art center (http://www.floodgallery.org/)
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the season of lent is almost here & i wonder if fasting from sns, internet, and/or info is more appropriate than dietary fasting.
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question: how was texas? my reply: the airport was nice & the hotel was okay, but the midnight cheeseburger was amazing!
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can’t believe i almost missed my flight due to chicken tenders…
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what a beautiful weekend. sunny & 60°F weather. the canadians invaded under a clear sky & bright full moon. my, weekend, how i miss thee.
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sometimes, when i’m washing dishes, i compose poems in the soap suds. then i pull the plug & watch them disappear down the drain.
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the house is quiet. only the sound of johnny cash playing on the stereo. must be time to wash dishes & clean the kitchen.
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somehow i felt a bit lost in the music section of beast buys. i mean, like most the record stores i used to haunt are gone.
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i hear a phone ringing. one of those old phones from a black & white film. i wanna answer it & say, in a smokey tom waits voice, ‘hullo.’
Coffeehouse Junkie 