replace crumbling sunken brick in back patio after leveling the area with sand and soil
mud jack the sunken steps leading to our front door
replace rotted framing around front door
rehang the storm door in front
replace the front and back doors
seek bids to replace our roof, which will require tearing out
at least three layers of covered asphalt tile and removing obsolete broken furnace in dogs’ room
tear out the encroaching honeysuckle vines 3 months ago
a novel about a happily married couple set in the U.S. that is full of surprises and good feeling. Can anyone recommend one? 3 months ago
an early spring are out there. Lots of projects and plans for this yeaer:
grind down the two stumps in back
transplant some of the roses of sharon shrubs to create privacy in back
transplant the lone arborvitae that’s survived the drought to backyard
reseed areas where lawn is thin
tear out the encroaching honeysuckle vines 3 months ago
two granola bars
chicken & rice soup
piece of cake
turkey & cheddar grilled sandwich
2 egg rolls
2 servings baked chips
am craving something sweet 3 months ago
with the warming house
my grandmother knew what to do
taking care not to wake
Da Da she cooked up a storm
in darkness adding silent spices
and hot sauce
to stay cool. She ate later, alone
after the children had been gathered
and made to eat
her red eggs. Da Da rose
late, long after
the roosters had crowed
his name, clearing
an ashy throat
pulling on long
to make him sweat
even more. The fields have gone
long enough without water
he liked to say, so can I
and when he returned
from those thirsty fields
he was even cooler
losing each soaked
to the floor, dropping
naked rain in his
wife’s earthen arms.
Kevin Young 3 months ago
We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,
gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.
Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:
would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.
Rainer Maria Rilke 3 months ago
snack at work
handful of chips
a few strawberry wafers
salmon caesar salad w packet of creamy dressing
much water 3 months ago
at a reasonable hour, I’m installing timers on the the lights and various digital gadgets. After 11:30, we’ll be completely in the dark. 3 months ago
started well, but I didn’t exercise yesterday. Was so far behind on sleep, I thought if I did, I’d just get more run down and probably get sick. Am taking Friday off, so I hope tonight and tomorrow to get good sleep and plenty of exercise. 3 months ago
two cups decaf
hard boiled egg
greanola bar 3 months ago
According to Culture Shock:
A Guide to Customs and Etiquette
of Filipinos, when my husband says yes,
he could also mean one of the following:
a.) I don’t know.
b.) If you say so.
c.) If it will please you.
d.) I hope I have said yes unenthusiastically enough
for you to realize I mean no.
You can imagine the confusion
surrounding our movie dates, the laundry,
who will take out the garbage
and when. I remind him
I’m an American, that all his yeses sound alike to me.
I tell him here in America we have shrinks
who can help him to be less of a people-pleaser.
We have two-year-olds who love to scream “No!”
when they don’t get their way. I tell him,
in America we have a popular book,
When I Say No I Feel Guilty.
“Should I get you a copy?” I ask.
He says yes, but I think he means
“If it will please you,” i.e. “I won’t read it.”
“I’m trying,” I tell him, “but you have to try too.”
“Yes,” he says, then makes tampo,
a sulking that the book Culture Shock describes as
“subliminal hostility . . . withdrawal of customary cheerfulness
in the presence of the one who has displeased” him.
The book says it’s up to me to make things all right,
“to restore goodwill, not by talking the problem out,
but by showing concern about the wounded person’s
well-being.” Forget it, I think, even though I know
if I’m not nice, tampo can quickly escalate into nagdadabog—
foot stomping, grumbling, the slamming
of doors. Instead of talking to my husband, I storm off
to talk to my porcelain Kwan Yin,
the Chinese goddess of mercy
that I bought on Canal Street years before
my husband and I started dating.
“The real Kwan Yin is in Manila,”
he tells me. “She’s called Nuestra Señora de Guia.
Her Asian features prove Christianity
was in the Philippines before the Spanish arrived.”
My husband’s telling me this
tells me he’s sorry. Kwan Yin seems to wink,
congratulating me—my short prayer worked.
“Will you love me forever?” I ask,
then study his lips, wondering if I’ll be able to decipher
what he means by his yes.
Denise Duhamel 3 months ago
you should maybe shoot for 94 3 months ago
two jimmy dean low-fat breakfast sandwiches
(280 calories each)
snacks at our staff meeting
three choc chip cookies
turkey burger w a slick of cheddar
bowl of navy bean soup with
whole wheat crackers
red beans & rice w summer sausage
two slices whole wheat toast w butter & jam
after dinner snack
crackers 3 months ago
When I see a couple of kids
And guess he’s fucking her and she’s
Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,
I know this is paradise
Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives-
Bonds and gestures pushed to one side
Like an outdated combine harvester,
And everyone young going down the long slide
To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That’ll be the life;
No God any more, or sweating in the dark
About hell and that, or having to hide
What you think of the priest. He
And his lot will all go down the long slide
Like free bloody birds. And immediately
Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.
Philip Larkin 3 months ago
one poppy seed bagel, no cream cheese
cuppa mostly decaf
turkey & swiss on low-cal potato bread
lunch-size bog of Fritos
nice fresh red apple
last poppy seed bagel, no cheese
grilled turkey & cheddar on whole wheat
three servings of barbecued popped rice/potato chips
cup of ice cream 3 months ago
but still working out in the evenings. Walked the dogs & did the recumbent bike, one minute longer than yesterday. 3 months ago
A contemporary fantasy psychological thriller. Natasha Mostert, author of this very entertaining modern-day witch story about two sisters, a murder, and the man who is investigating, is an extraordinary person, befitting her huge imagination. Born in South Africa, she lives in Chelsea and one of her great passions is kick-boxing. She apparently helps fund a group that teaches martial arts to Afghan women so they can protect themselves from any men who might wish them harm. Some of her characters are brilliant, and she writes about them brilliantly. I recommend this & may try to find her other books soon. (Note: this novel has nothing to do with the dismal Nicholas Cage movie by the same name.) 3 months ago
coffee, half decaf
small bag baked cheetos
turkey & cheddar on whole wheat
reduced calorie chocolate cake wo icing
one quarter overripe apple
beans & rice
a few chips
lots of mild salsa
cup of Edy’s pralines & cream 3 months ago
coming up, last of January.
Worked out on recumbent bike & walked the dogs. Energy level wasn’t great, but about halfway through the bike ride, I got to feeling pretty great. Could have gone longer I think. Will try tonight. 3 months ago
to my birthday calendar. My father offered to pay me for the cost of printing and shipping (I declined). One brother texted that it was awesome, and another told me on the phone that they were happy to have it. So that’s a pretty good response. 3 months ago
brought me outside to look around the yard and pick up after the dogs.
Noticed the daffodils have already broken the surface. Watered the young maple and dogwood trees. Washed out the birdbath. It’s supposed to be 69 degrees today, so more spring plants are likely to think it’s time to get going. However, at the end of the week, temps are supposed to drop back into the teens. That should make them think twice. 3 months ago
thirty or so cheddar goldfish crackers
medium well burger with swiss on toasted parmesan bun
yummy sweet potato tots
two turkey dogs
slice of havarti on each
2 cups of lightly salted peanuts in their shells
much water 3 months ago
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the
next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor!
Kenneth Koch 3 months ago
It is unforgettable & perfect. I don’t think anyone has been able to achieve so much with such simple sensory images. One favorite poet of mine published something similar, going for a little different effect. (See my latest post.) 3 months ago
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
William Carlos Williams 3 months ago
They are like women because they sway.
They are like men because they swagger.
They are like lions because they are king here.
They walk on the sea. The drifting
logs are good: they are taking their punishment.
But the bad boats are ready to be bad,
to overturn in water, to demolish the swagger
and the sway. They are bad boats
because they cannot wind their own rope
or guide themselves neatly close to the wharf.
In their egomania they are glad
for the burden of the storm the men are shirking
when they go for their coffee and yawn.
They are bad boats and they hate their anchors.
Laura Jensen 3 months ago
The party is going strong.
The doorbell rings. It’s
for someone named me.
I’m coming. I take
a last drink, a last
puff on a cigarette,
a last kass at a girl,
and step into the hall,
shutting out the laughter. “Is
your name you?” “Yes.”
“Well come along then.”
“See here. See here. See here.”
Alan Dugan 3 months ago
My mother writes from Trenton,
a comedian to the bone
but underneath serious
and all heart. ‘Honey,’ she says,
‘be a mensch and Mary too,
its no good to worry, you
are doing the best you can
your Dad and everyone
thinks you turned out very well
as long as you pay your bills
nobody can say a word
you can tell them, to drop dead
so save a dollar it can’t
hurt—remember Frank you went
to highschool with? He still lives
with his wife’s mother his wife
works while he writes his books and
did he ever sell a one
the four kids run around naked
36, and he’s never had,
you’ll forgive my expression,
even a pot to piss in
or a window to throw it,
such a smart boy he couldn’t
read the footprints on the wall
honey you think you know all
the answers you don’t, please, try
to put some money away
believe me it wouldn’t hurt
artist shmartist life’s too short
for that kind of, forgive me,
horseshit, I know what you want
better than you, all that counts
is to make a good living
and the best of everything,
as Sholem Aleichem said,
he was a great writer did
you ever read his books dear,
you should make what he makes a year
anyway he says some place
Poverty is no disgrace
but its no honor either
that’s what I say,
Robert Mezey 4 months ago
Here in the electric dusk your naked lover
tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth.
It’s beautiful Susan, her hair sticky with gin,
Our Lady of Wet Glass-Rings on the Album Cover,
streaming with hatred in the heat
as the record falls and the snake-band chords begin
to break like terrible news from the Rolling Stones,
and such a last light—full of spheres and zones.
you’re just an erotic hallucination,
just so much feverishly produced kazoo music,
are you serious?—this large oven impersonating night,
this exhaustion mutilated to resemble passion,
the bogus moon of tenderness and magic
you hold out to each prisoner like a cup of light?
Denis Johnson 4 months ago
isn’t worth wasting another moment on, that’s for sure. I’m sure there’s someone out there who deserves a chance at happiness with you. Hope you can convince yourself to keep looking. I’m sort of in awe of your weight loss, and I’m sure that if you can manage that, you can go a little easier on yourself and be open to meeting someone who’s worthy of you. 4 months ago