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Comfort food

"what's your favorite comfort food that reminds you of a happy moment in childhood, huh?"

A root beer float on the front porch, on a warm August night, my dad listening to baseball on the radio, while I sip and watch fireflies in the front yard.

Amen!

Ask the Pilot says on Salon this week:

It dawns on me that as I've spent thousands of words and, probably, too much of readers' time analyzing this stuff over the past few weeks, I've danced and dallied around the central point. Allow me to quote Bruce Schneier, the author and security guru, who in a recent blog entry more elegantly sums things up:

"The point of terrorism is to cause terror. The people terrorists kill are not the targets; they are collateral damage. And blowing up planes, trains, markets or buses is not the goal; those are just tactics. The real targets of terrorism are the rest of us: the billions of us who are not killed but are terrorized because of the killing. The real point of terrorism is not the act itself, but our reaction to the act. And we're doing exactly what the terrorists want."

Bolivia

(huayño by Gonzalo Hermosa (Los Kjarkas))

Ser tu bravura ser la fuerza y juventud
De tu letargo mudo la voz, la inquietud
Bolivia...
Quiero pegar un grito de liberación
Despues de un siglo y medio de humillación

Quiero tengan tus días destino mejor
Y el futuro sonría prometedor
Bolivia...
En la falda de tus cerros haré mi hogar
Donde felices los niños iran a jugar

Bolivia...

The Return

Been sort of quiet around here lately.

I'll break the silence with a meme stolen from vidiot

Cities where I spent one or more nights in 2005:

• San Diego, CA
  
• San Jose, CA
  
• Davenport, IA
• Chicago, IL
• Boston, MA
• Arlington, TX

Heh. Not bad -- that list includes most of my favorite cities.

Shooting Star

Wow. I was on my balcony this evening, looking at the night, and I saw a shooting star. It was huge and red, flaming across the western sky, looking as though it were low to the ground. Lower even than the airplanes flying overhead, landing and taking off from the airport. But that was probably an illusion.

I was so surprised. I'm sure I've seen a meteor in the sky before, but I can't remember when.

I was so surprised, I forgot to make a wish.

But, it's just as well I forgot. I don't believe in wishes any more. No wishes, no dreams, no grand goals.

Sure, those things are fine sometimes. It feels good to imagine what could be, what might be, all the possibilities and then sorting through to choose the one I'd like the best.

But, I've had it with that. No more. I'm tired of the disappointments. Tired of the wishes that fall to earth in flames, like a shooting star.

The 7 Dangerous Habits of Chronically Single People

1. Eating badly because, frankly, cooking for one is a pain and fast food is, well, fast and cheap
2. Never closing the bathroom door
3. Licking the drips from the hot sauce bottle, because, after all, it's only your own germs you're sharing with yourself
   
4. Not restraining those bodily noises
5. Rinsing a spoon and leaving it out to reuse, because (see item 3)
   
6. Developing a high tolerance for dust (resulting in the side effect of a mad rush of cleaning prior to the arrival of visitors)
7. Self-indulgence -- doing whatever you want, whenever you want, spending money without discussion or consensus

PS, to whoever may come to visit: re item 3, I *promise* to buy a fresh bottle in advance!

PPS: is item 7 really a *dangerous* habit??

What a week!

The Weekly Review at Harper's published September 13th

where, we discover, reality was as surreal as any parody