If I'm not there, I know I'm not dead

The Burns Supper tonight was also a sing for Pete Seeger. Roger Gordy must have taken these pictures of me and derspatchel in a moment of listening, rather than singing.





I came home and fell into lung-wracking coughing from the cold between teenybuffalo's car and our living room, but I was very glad I had not had to be silent. I sang "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" with my arm around Rob. I wasn't going to sing it from the other side of a room.

Take out your fucking retainer, put it in your purse

I've had to get a year's worth of braces because the alternative was my teeth grinding into one another at angles that were causing them to splinter and would necessitate things like crowns and lots of composite if not realigned. The effects of this on my daily life are substantially nastier than I was led to believe and I don't know what the adjustment period is going to be like. Things inside my head are kind of terrible right now.

Hana Vojáčková's Milk & Sea. I think I love best the Icelandic mermaid with her trout-silver tail and the rill of turf-breaking rock that looks like a stream, but there is something about the German mermaid waiting for her bus, or maybe just watching the nighttime, commercial sea, that is a story all in one frame. I shouldn't write it before I write something with trees. Right now I am having trouble believing I will ever write anything, full stop.