Happiness is a duck in the oven and a glaze of quinces and cider simmering on the stove. In one of its forms, anyway. Another is new books—
papersky's Ha'penny,
desperance's Shelter, Ben Parzybok's Couch, Growing Back: Poems 1972—1992 by Rika Lesser. Yet another is
lesser_celery, in person, talking about Tom Stoppard and beef stock and dirty bombs. Music I haven't heard yet. An enameled plaque of squid. My brother, dozing. TCM appears to be playing film noir for Christmas, of which I totally approve. Tomorrow, the Museum of Science; first, I must attend to the duck.
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- 1: In Memphis, on Valentine's Day
- 2: Just like a bad plot, I won't tell you why
- 3: I'll ring twice, like the postman always does
- 4: How about I create a mess and then solve the mess and then I'll be a hero
- 5: There's no kind of atmosphere
- 6: Anything you crave, a certain curse
- 7: Never tasted anything like you before
- 8: None of us are traitors till we are
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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