the coriolis effect

"you're like this little half- dominican leprechaun ninja. has anyone told you that?' -bm (bg march '07)

“LUKE HAD KNOWN THERE WAS NO ROOM for another new thing in his life. He had examined things, and he was certain. His life, such as it was, night and day, was jammed, spoken for, taken up. The days brimmed over, and sleep sopped up the rest.”

- Ron Carlson “The Exact Distance” from Washington Post Magazine

onwards

It isn't necessary that you leave home. Sit at your desk and listen. Don't even listen, just wait. Don't wait, be still and alone. The whole world will offer itself to you to be unmasked, it can do no other, it will writhe before you in ecstasy. - Kafka

Saw Nickel Creek, tonight. Sublime, as it was before. An act of expiation. Though the Sox lost tonight, the Nationals won 10-4. Why should the fire die, after all. England, autumn 2006. Michaelmas term, if you will.

after habana village with the girls, several observations:
1) several salsa moves - namely, the waterfall - that were excruciatingly ackward when attempted with a 6'7" math grad student at salsa class in the adams d-hall were not much better in the company of random 30-something dudes, gentlemanly and good leaders though they were.
2) a week of carter/reagan- era "30 years in 30 days" on WARW and I really just wanted to rock out to the ramones, leverett house style.
3) tequila sunrise, a malibu sunshine it ain't
4) tequila sunrise + hothouse jungle heat + music = a rekindling of the dream that sustained me through so many LAS lectures: the scene in y tu mama tambien with a jukebox and an open air restaurant, dancing (near a beach?). without the terminal cancer and angsty class conscious homoeroticism, preferably.
5) despite (because of) an increasing obsession with gawker. com and assorted other snarky locales in the blogosphere / because of the fact it is now called the blogosphere and this predates that by months if not years/ because of the fact I'm not going anywhere passport worthy for awhile anyway : this has become a rather absurd and self conscious exercise on the whole, without being committed enough to standards of poseur hipsterism (the american flaneur ,park slope style?/ globetrotting idealism / a celebration of the quotidian to, as one could imagine, shoot the man dead on a sunny algerian beach, or harbour illusions of turning it all into a book deal.
(in other words, I couldn't imagine anyone taking the previous sentence seriously, but its the sort of hogwash I feel compelled to write)

"As a very old reader of {mag title} as well as life itself, it pains me to characterize "{issue title}" as erroneous, technically, historically, factually and philosophical."

And it pains me to tell YOU, my not-so-dear- reader, that you are in error grammatically, if in no other way. Unless you are indeed the entirety of life incarnate.