We were not able to celebrate with my niece after all on account of my brother being socked in by worse weather than fell on Boston, but
spatch and
rushthatspeaks and I joined my parents this afternoon for my father's birthday observed with New York-style pizza from Joe's in Harvard Square and a slightly spontaneous cherry cake with whipped cream and strawberries supplemented by small creatures from Burdick's, centrally a rabbit in dark chocolate for my father who considers white chocolate an abomination. (I enjoyed my white chocolate sheep Lovecraftianly.) I had gotten him the pre-birthday present of the Library of America's Into the Blue: American Writing on Aviation and Spaceflight (2011) and my mother the unbirthday present of Dolores Hitchens' The Cat Wears a Noose (1945) before coming home to Hestia who doesn't even wear a collar. It had been ages since I ate a slice of pizza that could really be folded over. There are considerable leftovers whose life expectancy we have no great hopes of.
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Active Entries
- 1: And four hours north of Portland, the radio flips on
- 2: Re-reading our texts from the strawberry days
- 3: You are just the fingertips of something
- 4: I yield to her cry, losing my own names within me
- 5: Shaking off the echoes of yesterday
- 6: Everything I love is on the table, everything I love is out to sea
- 7: He tried to run away, well, she hit him with a hammer
- 8: There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard
- 9: She's got a common full of love
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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