Bits and pieces

Over the last few months there have been a number of posts I've begun and never finished. Here, in order from oldest to most recent, are the fragments.



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Catherine said that her blog wasn't representative of the way she thought. It was, rather, representative of the way she thought when she was in the mood to blog. Fascinating.

Think of that. This blog will doubtless be the same way. What about my poetry? Any poetry? That would mean poetry doesn't reveal anything about the poet, but rather the state of inspiration that created the poetry. The poet is anonymous to his own work.

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I had the singular opportunity this last weekend to see someone get everything they wanted. Take a pause and consider that – everything worked out. In my experience, actually, I'd be prepared to call that unprecedented.

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I'm hungry.

This in itself is not interesting; I often forget about/put off eating for one reason or another and wind up ravenous. At the moment, however, I'm hungry, but without craving. Usually it's fairly obvious what I want – most often it's salt or sugar, and occasionally I just want broccoli. But at the moment, nothing. I have the physical sensation of hunger, but the thought of actually eating something fails to excite me. I don't really want raviolis, or sausage, or cinnamon toast, or a pepper-turkey sandwich, or milk, or a PB&J, or what have you.

Just to test, I tasted some cinnamon sugar, but it failed to hit any kind of spot. Same with a small dash of salt.

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I'm not acknowledging the fact that my last post was in early December.

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I'm getting into cheese.

Cheese is complex, varied, potentially expensive; in a word, sophisticated. Cheese, as I've oft argued to my idiot roommate, is in effect the pinnacle of Western gastronomy. While he balks from even washing a dish that's been previously occupied by some truly harmless pecorino romano, I'm coming to relish the rich and powerful flavors of what is, essentially, a moldy block of spoiled, compressed sheep excretion. I recall the afternoon after acquiring my 1/4 lb sliver of blue-veined

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The beach in San Francisco was windy today. Tiny dunes in the sand. There was a big container ship leaving the bay all loaded up and it was ridiculously large and gave me that subtly unsettling feeling I get when I think about being in the water next to such a big thing. I had forgotten about the ocean kinda. I guess I had started to think the Bay was the ocean, so I was surprised by how rough the surf was and how far the water went. Someone asked me a dumb question one time, about whether I was more a mountains person or an ocean person (as if it was necessarily one or the other), and I said I was mountains. Easy answer.

I feel ultimately safe in the mountains.

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I'm not sure if any of this means anything.