We need more content that is not commercially driven. And that can only happen when you get back your place on the web and you do things at your own pace, following your own rules.

-@manuelmoreale

My song of the day, going along with today’s photo theme, is “Down on the Street” by The Stooges. 🎵

I started then quickly stopped the first iteration of this morning’s poem because I could feel myself going into “old man get off my lawn” territory.

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

White plate, 2-egg omelet
Leftover potatoes from dinner
Half of an avocado.
Morning conversation
Brief yet pleasant, hopeful
Sometimes just informational.
The morning light shields us
from the alerts and notifications
that await, that lurk
on devices in other rooms.

Day 4: Sharp đź“·

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

A good recovery should
make us less vulnerable to
future risks.
It’s not a “step”.
nor an item on a list.
It is time. It is a process.
Filled with empathy and care
Filled with space, empty
and at times, silent.
Allowing for anger, grief,
denial, deflection, bitterness, depression.
Giving way to acceptance, embrace,
new knowledge, ingenuity, planning,
hope.
healing.

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

He curses the lightbulbs
using a sharp tongue
Frustrated that each one dances
through life and unlife.
In the office, one out.
Replaced.
In the kitchen, another.
Replaced.
Front porch, three go out.
Replaced.
Frustrated, he pulls too hard
and sharp shards shatter.
Replaced.

Day 3: Majority đź“·

🎵 Song of the day: “Can You Feel It” by Fat Boys.

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

You ask, please look at me
and I stare into darkness
Ignoring your ask
looking away
As if I could see anything
something, I’m not sure
what to look for
Or whether I ever did see,
anything in this dark
nor anything in the light.

Day 2: Dark đź“·

Day 1: Touch đź“·

a black and white picture of fingers resting on typewriter keys

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

Internal energy stored
kinetic, almost hyper
Longing for contact
Longing to be used to its potential.
Released by your touch
Released by your presence.
Contact allows flow
at first, bottlenecked by excitement
then steady and constant
Kinetic, almost hyper
Waiting for that touch.

The man begins to offer his opinions and soon creates his own conversational gravity: everyone is reacting to whatever he’s saying. This, Saunders contends, quickly ruins the party. And if you have a particularly empty-minded Megaphone Guy, you get a discourse that’s not just stupid but that makes everyone in the room stupider as well…

-On the Internet, We’re Always Famous, The New Yorker

Finished reading: The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston đź“š

A beautiful weaving in and out of fantasy and reality, history and the present, and family and the self. “Talk-stories” is a wonderful, wonderful way to position it all.

Loud (in my headphones). Mood setter for Thursday: Kathy McCarty’s “Rocketship”. 🎵

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

Reciprocation isn’t mandatory
but it is nice.
Reciprocation isn’t a requirement
but it is appreciated.
Reciprocation isn’t automatic
but the effort is recognized
and will be thought about
continually, warmly.
Reciprocation can be silent
and can speak volumes.
Reciprocation isn’t normal
which makes it valued.

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

The hurry is my cue to slow
The sense of time, warped by
false deadlines and the greed of others
Ignoring the sign
I clock in. I submit my work.
I meet those deadlines.
I tell myself, I will slow
on the weekend.
Ignoring the sign
I collapse on the weekend.

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

I start in one corner of the garden
slowly moving the water spray back and forth
while the other corners await
Await their chance for input
Await their chance for nourishment
I move to another corner
while the other corners wait
And that first corner has time to
ingest and process.

picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

The window open through
the night, to let the Delta Breeze
cool the upper floors.
We sept well in the cooler
rooms, breathing easier
dreaming happier.
We wake to hot coffee
and the start of another week.
The window open throughout.

The Coathangers' “F the NRA” is the appropriate mood setter for today. 🎵

a picture of the poem, written on a typewriter

Ignorance on horseback
wearing cowboy hats
to whip and round up those who
have already suffered, strived,
and survived.
We chose to be another obstacle
In lieu of a helping hand
We add imagery to a library of the past
that we cannot escape.

Only 4 days into this 7 day free trial of the NYT Crosswords app, and I’m hooked. I love the rhythm of solving a puzzle every day. But is my “miser” self ready to shell out $40/year for this? 🤔

Lucy Dacus' story behind “Thumbs”, told in this Song Exploder episode, is worth a listen. The feeling and meaning and intent behind expressing yourself through art is absolutely important. 🎵

Today’s mood setter, “Waiting in Vain” by Bob Marley and the Wailers. 🎵