the absurdities of family traditions:
the paternal side (branch?) of my family takes a thanksgiving picture every year. i wonder what will happen if/when anyone who hasn’t a clue about these things finds the album those pictures are in. they are a strange evolution of sorts. there have been three major changes: one, more grandchildren; two, my grandfather died when i was ten; three, we ALL AGE. but the same people are in every picture, pretty much. the positioning of picture-occupants varies, but we always sit in the same place.
i had a thought the other day. why so many pictures of the same people?
i figured out your problem and i thought you should know.
you like being rescued too much.
“i only pick up pennies when they’re heads up,” he said.
“a penny’s a penny whether it’s heads up or not. that’s an extra cent you didn’t have before, whether it’s ‘lucky’ or not.” there was a certain incredulity in her voice.
“well, a tornado would have to come along and blow it upside down to convince me it was worth the effort of stooping down.”
love implies anger. the man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing.
— edward abbey
the end. nothing else to say.
as of midterm, Barclay and I are not getting along. Not at all. In fact, I daresay it is the biggest, most epic Not-Getting-Along I have ever had with a professor. just to update you.
do you ever meet someone you know you could fall in love with because they’re so uncorruptably simple (not to be confused with stupid)?
and then they run back out of your life before you can give them your telephone number?
and you’re relatively certain you’re never going to see them again?
