Abortion. This is an article who was unable, for a week, to get a D&E abortion (dialation and extraction). She was bleeding. The baby was nineteen weeks old. And dead. via ***Dave. I’m proud to have had my daughter in a country where abortion is legal. On those days when I hate being a parent, […]

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Word of the Day. Antipodes: “People who live on the opposite side of the globe and, of course, whose feet are directly opposite to ours.” –Rev. John Boag’s Imperial Lexicon…of every word usually employed in science, literature, and art, c 1850 –From Jeffrey Kacirk, Forgotten English Daily Calendar 2004.

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Spielberg. The coffee shop was frikken deserted on Sunday night. Deserted. Lots of other places for these to bobos to sit than six feet away from me. Girl: About twenty two, works at a pet store, long brown hair. Boy: Just turned thirty, still going to school, looks and sounds like a younger, taller version

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Cookies. Ray’s sitting on my lap. One cookie says to the other cookie (both of which have a big, semi-circular bite of them): Cookie 1: What happened to your head? Cookie 2: That one eat me. Cookie 1: Spiders! Cookie 2: Aaugh!

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Just let yourself fit in. This is one of those more introspective posts. I’ve been reading The French Lieutenant’s Woman. The setting is Victorian England. Anyway, there’s a scene where Sarah, the epononymous character, reveals that she slept with the French Lieutenant and why: She was a governess for two children whose mother was her

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Oh Raaaaaaaaaandyyyyyyyyyy… Arch-swindler Moist Van Lipwig never believed his confidence crimes were hanging offenses — until he found himself with a noose tightly around his neck, dropping through a trapdoor, and falling into . . . a government job? By all rights, Moist should have met his maker. Instead, it’s Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of

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Dang it. As Lee left for work, I told him I was going to do some calling around about places to live. “Don’t sign anything without letting me see it first,” he said. Damn it. The first one I looked at is just what I want.

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The difference between poetry and prose. I’ve been trying to figure this one out for years. One of my playwriting profs asked me this one, since I was trying to write both. The tentative answer of the day: Prose is clear, communicative writing. Poetry is clear, communicative writing under extreme conditions. –I never really liked

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Email update. I took a Gmail invite from Doyce recently, and have changed my email address. Worry not! Thanks to Doyce’s savoir faire, the old address is forwarding to the new address. If you’d like the new address, email me at the old address or leave a comment here, and I’ll send you the new

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In other birthday news, Ray and I went to a birthday party for a little girl that Ray plays with. Now here I have to figure out what I want to say. Every time Ray runs around with this kid, I pity her and feel proud of the way we’re raising Ray. After all the

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