Tendance orageuse le soir

The snow has ceased. And the air has filled itself with itself.

"Trap," says the wolf, "why am I trapped?"

"Trap," says the wolf, "why won't you let me go?"

The field stretches between the mountains and the downs.

"I love to run across the snow," says the wolf. "I gaze upon the path I've left behind me and rejoice."

The tall grass bends patiently.

"I love the snow too," says the trap.

"And the winter. Everything tastes better when you are hungry."

"Yes," says the trap. "I love the winter too."

"Trap, should I despise myself for not chewing off my own paw?"

"You are too busy talking to me."

"I could uproot you and carry you with me."

"You wouldn't last long."

"Trap, maybe I'm not really a wolf. I could be a bear. Why wasn't I sleeping."

"I sang to you through my teeth. It was easy. I have no tongue. I knew your dream. I was surprised I was surprised."

"Ok. I lied. I'm not really a bear. I'm a dexterous child. I could examine you and take you apart. I've made a thousand paper cranes out of gum wrappers. I am hungry."

"Wish your wish."

"I will wait for the trapper and ask him to let me go."

"He's not coming back."

"What if I were a fox? Small and swift and silent. My pelt would be so red. I could pull myself free."

"If you shrink, I will tighten."

"I'll be a rabbit. Yes, I was digging through the snow to reach the grass. There. I have abased myself. Relent."

"Silly rabbit, all you have to do is cut off your own paw. Another will grow in its place, spotless and clear as glass."*

* * *

"Trap," says something formless, "they didn't grow back. But my teeth are sharpening themselves within my mouth."

"Quick," says the trap. "Take them back. Soon you will be unable to speak without cutting your own tongue."

"Don't be afraid trap. I am just examining you. I am turning you over in my hands. Feel how small they are."

"Trap. Trap. Trap? Is that my blood.?"

*Something by Kafka (like, "a little fairy-tale"), The Dirty Hand by Mark Strand, and, of course, Trix are for Kids.

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Sorry for the rough draft. Haven't had the urge to write for a long long while, and thought I would just go with it.

Execution, theory

cookieexecution2
Originally uploaded by <Allegra>

Frosting: one part butter, two parts powdered sugar. How little one needs to know to know too much.

This is not (quite) a completely lame blog post

So I only have enough time to bitch a bit about the time I don't have. If I had had more than the little more time I have, I would have blogged about:

Deuce ex machina: a few interesting pieces on brain development and the sex chromosomes. This one in the NYT, and another that I should find because it was more interesting, about how the X, compensating for the Y, doubles its output, and so, when two copies are present, one or the other goes dormant. Female cats calico. X central to brain development. Female geniuses or lack thereof. Einstein's mom. Fathers and sons. I firmly believe in your ability to connect the dots.

Land of the lost: the new creation museum. We were sort of close a few weeks back and I sort of didn't consider going. I just not that into it. But I visited their website and came across "How can we see distant stars in a young universe?", which I think would make a lovely title for a poem. I could just have meaning envy.

Anyway, I am going to go back to learning hand-clap rhymes.

Down down baby
I can do karate
Down down baby
I can shake my body
Down down baby
I can phone my mommy
Down down baby
((lightly) tap each other on forehead)
Oops! I'm sorry.

Free at last, free at last, (relatively) free at last

Anoushka Renée Jaroski-Biava was born on 10 March 2007 at 8:54 am. She was 52 cm long and weighed 4.35 kg. And, of course, she's very cute:

and also:

(Noe took that picture of Anoushka. See more of her work (and her) at http://www.flickr.com/photos/a_big_big_world/)

Happy saddest day

So most people go with "blue Monday" being the saddest day of the year, but when I read about it, I remembered the "24" instead of "around Jan. 24" and I've decided to go ahead and designate today as the downest day of my year. Heck, it was a piece in the IHT, and ended with this fine proverb, "You can't stop birds of sadness flying over you, but don't let them nest in your hair," which inspired the first doodle I've done in years -- some girl with feathers in her hair. (The two obvious critical interpretations being: 1) the birds flew on, and 2) I can't draw birds.) And I liked that my year's hump day fell on a Wednesday.

No, the curve isn't completely smooth. Yesterday afternoon the first snow of the year began, and when I went out for a walk that evening the flakes became large and slow -- no longer racing for the ground, not quite still in the air. And I thought, if it would only snow every day, I wouldn't mind never smoking another cigarette. Tomorrow I am going to Paris.

I was expecting bad news today and didn't get it. This can still be the saddest day. While I waited I decided to try to draw birds like Tomie dePaola. I don't quite have the hang of it.

Options

So you still can't find it?

No, not only is the invisible potion invisible, it also turns whatever it touches invisible. I don't know why I didn't put the bottle inside of a second container. Never thought I would want to take it again.

And you're still having that problem?

Yeah, I just can't get used to being visible. Any time I notice someone noticing me, I think there's something stuck in my teeth or that my face is dirty. I've started carrying around a little mirror so I can check. Then I notice that my face is really lopsided. Then I start to worry that people think I'm being vain.

Did you have this problem before?

No, not when I was a kid at least. But now being seen just seems abnormal, and abnormal, for some reason, equals bad.

If I were you, I would just imagine that people were staring at me because I looked like the Hoff in a leather speedo. And forgo the mirror.

Grab bag

In my late adolescence I acquired this rather repulsive but endearing habit (if one can find oneself endearing): when cooking I would collect the various bits of vegetable debris in a plastic bag, spit in it (sometimes add a little hair), tie the bag, toss it in the trash, and say to myself, in a billion years, that'll be something.

Paper or plastic

Anyway, according to the BBC, the One Laptop per Child Project may allow the general public to buy their own XO, but only if you sponsor a second for the developing world.

Everybody's talking about the new iPhone.

Divvying up household chores is such a pain. What about having a simple rule: if you see the other person cleaning, you clean too. No nagging. No lists. No "let me do that for you later" BS. And, of course, you could be exempt if you were doing something else to maintain the house, like fixing the computer that is also the television, the stereo, and the DVD player. Of course, if both people are slobs, this rule might not work. Wait. Nevermind, it would work.

And in a billion years you might have something.