Oct. 8th, 2009

It's so obvious to me that the kind of person who would create a cocktail-mixer from balsa wood and twine is simply blowing off steam that life will eventually focus in a direction that will be extremely a) constructive, b) profitable, or c) both. I can't make this obvious to my students. After six years I lack a succinct, meaningful response to my students' defensive, clannish embrace of mediocrity, though I'm grateful for this tweet, which comes pretty close:

dwineman: You say "looks like somebody has too much time on their hands" but all I hear is "I'm sad because I don't know what creativity feels like."

Love this tweet.

Posted via web from fuzzyjay's posterous

Fifty-odd

Oct. 8th, 2009 03:52 pm

Fifty-odd years ago my father, who must have been engaged to my mother at the time, wrote to my mother's parents. I lived in New Haven for many years and passed the address he mailed this from many a time, without knowing he had lived there.

The letter was duly delivered to Zero Teague Street in Caribou, Maine, an address created and insisted upon by my grandparents, who made no small amount of trouble with the local postmaster to assure themselves of a locality of nonentity.

Posted via email from fuzzyjay's posterous

I hold my palm out to you
see, no weapon —
I have to feel your pain and not augment it
do you see these beads I wear
they used to be worries — one for each —
the powers took them and coalesced
them into solid form — so now I
wear them but outside — I can look at
them — so can you.

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November 2010

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