Monthly Archives: April 2011

Black Hole

   I’ve known a number of damaged people in my time. Mostly they were the victims of narcissistic or religious parents and many of them also suffered early loss of a sibling or other close relative with no opportunity to talk, … Continue reading

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No No

     It’s not productive to complain about the degeneration of the English language. Even the clever bemoaners don’t slow down the process, and most of the protesters are not clever. Anyone who understands word origin or how grammar works appreciates … Continue reading

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My mother thinks it’s a derogatory term. Whenever I try to explain to her why I made a decision she wouldn’t have, I describe myself as weird. “No you’re not,” she responds so swiftly it seems automatic. “Weird isn’t bad, … Continue reading

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Protest Poem

   Up the street from our house in Chula Vista was the high school, and behind the high school was undeveloped land. It was a place of sand and clayey soil, tumbleweed and manzanita, rattlesnakes and rodents and small birds. This … Continue reading

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   My memory bank contains some odd food entries. I’m sure I put small things in my mouth when I was a toddler, and I remember biting my fingernails and learning the pleasures of reading-and-eating when I was a child of … Continue reading

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Good Friday, Riding Westward

    John Donne is one of my favorite poets. Most years I read his divine poem on Good Friday, and I send love to the close friends I have who are believers. I started this sonnet in 1998 and just … Continue reading

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Empty Barrel

   When I was 10 or 12 or so, my father said to me, “Empty barrels make the most noise.” I got the meaning from the context – we’d just listened to an egotist engage in bombast (although I didn’t know … Continue reading

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How can you not love that word? Pan-demon-ium = All hell breaking loose. Clearly and obviously. This should be the shortest entry I ever post. I think we think of it as a condition – pandemonium in the streets – … Continue reading

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Kid Prayers

     My parents were not very observant, and although they always belonged to a temple my father expressed consistent distrust of organized religion. Even so, they taught me to pray. Or Mom did, anyway. She helped me memorize that childhood … Continue reading

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  I’m not sure how old I was when I heard the anecdote about Carl Friedrich Gauss, but he was in primary school when the event occurred, and I recall admiring his cleverness and feeling a little humbled, so I … Continue reading

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