By Jordan Davis
I tell you I will not make any more raids,
The elusive going-elsewhere motherboard
An electrical sound marking stretches
Afternoon is carving into the wood of us,
That's our modern way of saline allegory --
To make gods of times of day. I won't
Cooperate with this love that steals itself
Into a brand name, preferring to abandon
Like feathers or a rocket stage the moves
Traffic up till now couldn't touch. That's me,
That warm breath dying on the neck,
The only chain they couldn't save in the fire
Everybody but the Buddha called
A day at the beach.
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Tuesday was rainy, chilly, and uneventful. I had two writing projects that had to be finished and they got finished, so I am feeling accomplished about that. Also, the laundry got folded, though I must blush and admit that while I was scanning On Demand for a costume drama or something with lovely scenery to watch, I came across Lovespell, which I managed NOT to watch when I was watching all of Kate Mulgrew's movies yet did not manage not to watch today. It wasn't bad -- Richard Burton was entertainingly crotchety, though what woman would pick his nephew over him, I can't fathom, and Kate was hilariously over-the-top and tearful, which was in keeping with the overwrought soundtrack.
Adam had tennis late in the afternoon, so since I hadn't been out all day I went to Old Navy for their 75% off sale and came home with two fleece sweatshirts for about $11. We had Mexican food for dinner, a nice contrast to the weather, and watched Glee (which had awesome music including a Cyndi Lauper cover, an Olivia Newton-John cover, and a Melissa Etheridge cover almost making up for the lesbianism-is-for-titillation! idiocy), Ringer (which is simply crack at this point), and Sanctuary (why was it on Tuesday>?!) So after all that background noise -- please don't ask me to explain exactly what Helen did to the computers -- I ran out of photo time. Here, have a sand shark from Calvert Cliffs:
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