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2013-01-22 - 11:33 a.m.

the strength of the uneroded rock is often attributed to the tightness of its jointing

it was cold in the shadow of the granite monadnock, and sensing an opportunity, a privately owned themed-entertainment company had brought in several snow cannons and an ice palace made out of glossy pressboard. above the artificial sledding slope, the air was filled with family-friendly oldies and the smell of funnelcake, hot dogs, good clean family fun.

but my husband and i had already been up and down the mountain with a throng of people who streamed along like ants, and i had seen the old graffiti incised into the rock face. a skull, a cross, a name, a year. now the confederate memorial loomed over us like a stormcloud.

there are actual events that happen and they cannot be ignored.

* * *


the waterfowl blind smelled like millipedes and mossy boards, and there was nothing to do but sit quietly. we could hear a skittish flutter of ring-billed ducks, a chorus of calling frogs, wind in the pines bringing a change in the weather.

* * *


reading: maidenhair, by mikhail shishkin. i don't know how to describe this book.
listening to: k-pop from my officemate's little speakers.
working on: remembering to eat. i guess i have to feed myself like i am my own pet.
in the garden: at night, i put a sheet over the new shoots to keep them from the frost.


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