The wind is blowing the planes around
Mailing our census form back to the city turned out to be slightly more of a Shackletonian trek than I had prepared for, not because I had failed to notice the maze of sidewalks and driveways tunneled out of the snow-walls on our street or the thick-flocked snowfall that had restarted around sunset, but because I had expected some neighbor to have snowblown or at least shoveled the block with the post box on it. It stood amid magnificent, inviolate drifts. I waded. At 18 °F and wind chill, my hands effectively quit on me within five minutes, but even between their numbness and my camera's increasing preference not to, I did manage to take a couple of pictures I liked.

This gate more normally appears as part of the funhouse distortion of the traffic mirror on its facing telephone pole.

I may never acclimate to the hard white of LED streetlight, but the effect in snow and branches is at least dramatic.
JSTOR showcased Laura Secord with the result that I had to listen, thanks these aeons ago to
ladymondegreen, to Tanglefoot.
It is a sign of how badly the last three years in particular have accordioned into one another that my reaction to discovering last year's new album from Brivele was the pleased surprise that it followed so soon on their latest EP. I am intrigued that they cover the Young'uns' "Cable Street" (2017), which has for obvious reasons been on my mind.
I can find no further details on the secretary from the North Midlands who appears in the second half of this clip from This Week: Lesbians (1965), but if there was any justice in the universe the studio should have been besieged with letters from interested women, because in explaining the problems of dating, she's a complete delight. "Well, that's the difficulty. In a way, it means that I have to keep making friends with people because I can't find out unless I make friends with them and then if they are lesbian, there's hope for me, but even then there isn't hope unless they happen to take to me!"

This gate more normally appears as part of the funhouse distortion of the traffic mirror on its facing telephone pole.

I may never acclimate to the hard white of LED streetlight, but the effect in snow and branches is at least dramatic.
JSTOR showcased Laura Secord with the result that I had to listen, thanks these aeons ago to
It is a sign of how badly the last three years in particular have accordioned into one another that my reaction to discovering last year's new album from Brivele was the pleased surprise that it followed so soon on their latest EP. I am intrigued that they cover the Young'uns' "Cable Street" (2017), which has for obvious reasons been on my mind.
I can find no further details on the secretary from the North Midlands who appears in the second half of this clip from This Week: Lesbians (1965), but if there was any justice in the universe the studio should have been besieged with letters from interested women, because in explaining the problems of dating, she's a complete delight. "Well, that's the difficulty. In a way, it means that I have to keep making friends with people because I can't find out unless I make friends with them and then if they are lesbian, there's hope for me, but even then there isn't hope unless they happen to take to me!"

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P.
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this album, you also hear:
voices of the unemployed and imprisoned
voices of people facing and fighting evictions
voices of McCarthy-era blacklisted poets
voices of writers murdered by the state
voices of workers; of immigrants
voices of disillusionment and steadfastness
voices in love
voices of resistance
--ahhhhaaa... excuse me while I run away and weep wildly.
...
Okay, back now.
I laughed at this:
I had expected some neighbor to have snowblown or at least shoveled the block with the post box on it. It stood amid magnificent, inviolate drifts. --hahaha, of course it did.
The photos capture the mood of snow and cold perfectly.
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You are intrepid!
Nine
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