Wednesday, December 04, 2013

A history of the legal system

 Whenever I see someone professing infinite love for (or from) a parent, I get confused. Really confused. Usually it’s a dead parent, but still. I think it should be required that anyone who designs, manufactures, or installs kitchens must actually spend time using kitchens. First it was core sanctions architecture, and now it is essential sanctions architecture – what will Obama’s speechwriters give us next?

Even though I’m cold, I’m sitting in the apartment without a hat because I don’t want to mess up my hair. I remember when I never wore a hat, for that reason, but now I can’t imagine going outside in the cold without one. Winter: it’s 7:47, but it feels like 10. Behold the holiday handbook: how to kill yourself without killing yourself. How to cry without crying. How to lie without lying. How to spy without trying. Or: how to cry without dying. Whoever decided that heating vents should be by the ceiling instead of the floor, really, what were they thinking? Testify. A history of the legal system: the judge isn’t here, and I am the judge. Okay, it’s unavoidable, this time of year: when morning becomes mourning. And do we welcome it, this grace, disgrace? Holding onto our cauliflower hearts or flinging octopus arms to the sky, hi, dancing that matters, breath inside vibrating with a chilly presence the warm tea.

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