Simone.

Red lips, matching shoes;

A gust of blonde hair,

a cigarette.

She pulls her jacket 

tight,

exhaling,

waiting.

Mondays are the

worst - school.

Tuesdays she gets

off work early.

Wednesdays, Thursdays, 

fill in the blanks. 

Falls in love with Fridays.

Saturdays are an affair, 

Sundays are the breakup.

A light drizzle, 

rainy fog, 

her bus pulls up.

Today she'd be 

punctual.

A City Has Many Skins

"It was in that room that I started to read again. A leaflet says a little, a whole book is full of thoughts, ideas and makes you fall prey to complicated feelings; there is no anaesthesia in the pages of a novel. Often you find discomfort, as if you were sleeping like the princess on the mattresses on top of the pea." (Grant 226)

It's been weeks, months, possibly even a year since I last read a book 'just for fun'. Yesterday I sat down with The Clothes On Their Backs by Linda Grant. I sat down on my comfy bed, in my old room at my parent's place, the bed on which I used to spend hours and hours just reading. Without a pen in hand. Without any music on, once the album I put on stopped. Without anything to drink, once the tea I made myself got cold and I finished it in one big gulp between pages. I did nothing but read. And it felt amazing. (read more)

5 O'Clock

Cars, cars, cars,
an endless line of postwork pearls. 


Buzz, buzz, buzz, 
rows of gleaming headlights. 


Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, 
smooth downhill streams. 


Home, home, home, 
and then back up again. 

Just a Quick Thought Regarding Texts, Books, and Textbooks.

Does anyone have the funds to freely distribute A People's History of the United States around Texas high schools? I do believe that history writing - and textbook writing - is a 'selective editing' process, yet what is going on in Texas these days is just ridiculous. Or it would be ridiculous if it wasn't so sad. 

Little Things.

You wake up as a little thing.
You go to school as a little thing. 
You go to work as a little thing. 
You go to sleep as a little thing.


You work on little things.
You keep little things. 
You hold on to little things. 
'Cause it's the little things that count. 

A Moment.

A shared cigarette
    on the balcony.
Words falling between
    them like ashes
whisked away with 
   a sigh and a simple gesture.

Feminism is for Freiburg.

Someone brought Feminism Is For Lovers to Freiburg.

Glenn Beck Tells Us To Run Away - from Jesus?

Every time I think the crazy surrounding certain U.S. media figures like Glenn Beck reached its climax, they manage to lower (or raise, depends on how you look at it) the bar once more. I almost missed this: 

When Glenn Beck told listeners of his radio show on March 2 that they should "run as fast as you can" from any church that preached "social or economic justice" because those were code words for Communism and Nazism, he probably thought he was tweaking a few crunchy religious liberals who didn't listen to the show anyway.

Not that people who actually listen to Beck read this blog, but: 

Christians, turn Glenn Beck off as fast as you can.

Supposed to.

Spring  is supposed to be a fresh start 
after a long, bleak winter.
Supposed to.
Nature is supposed to start anew;
snow melts, blossoms bloom.
Supposed to.
Creatures are supposed to return, 
to shed their winter coats. 
Supposed to.
Sunshine is to supposed to warm, 
our limbs, our hearts.
Supposed to.
As when the leaves turned, 
as when the year turned, 
we're supposed 
to start 
anew. 
Supposed to.

Erase and Start It Again.