First things first: have you donated yet? There are links all over the place now to relief organizations of every conceivable type, or you can take the easy way out and use one-click at Amazon.
Okay. So you can find my blog if you're looking for "children peeing pictures", which is news. That visitor must have been deeply disappointed to click through and get a post about Brussels. Ah well.
Random thoughts: Yesterday Snufkina and I went on a photo safari--urban this time--and I took something like a hundred pictures of graffitti and construction sites. I also noticed that she is much nicer to strangers than I am. Of course, the people who approach her don't seem to be as inherently odd as those who approach me, but maybe that's just a perceptual thing. I'm happier with these photos than the ones I took the last time we did this, and it's really interesting going with another person. You start to get an idea of what she's going to be drawn to. At some point, we should probably sit down and compare what we get on these expeditions.
The kids upstairs are taking revenge on me for some noise I made the other night and have apparently bought themselves a very large television. One or the other or both of them had better find jobs soon or I shall go mad.
One of the legs of my new bed bends under pressure. I should have known not to trust IKEA. Fortunately the distance to the floor is not great. But I need to get cracking on the platform-building, so I can put the mattress (sans legs) on a sturdier surface.
Finally, the thing referenced in the title. As I was sorting papers last night, I found something my mother had sent. I wish I had a scanner so I could just show it to you, although I may be the only person who can read it. It's a story I wrote in, oh, looks like third grade. The teacher had handed out a mimeograph (kids, that's like a Xerox copy; the ink was blue, and had a distinct smell of ozone) with a stylized drawing of a black sun and a city skyline. Written at the top was the beginning of the story; we were supposed to finish it any way we liked. Here's mine (the teacher-provided opening is in bold, my response in regular type, her notes in italics):
Dawn should have broken that morning at 6:05 a.m. But it was still dark at 8 o'clock. It was almost noon before the panic came. The sun would never shine again. What do you think would happen?
the werewolves came and ate all the people up. They also made a slide out of butter and splashed all around. They took markers and scribbled on the walls and they would decay and bury the bodies. The planes and boats would fall into the Bermuda triangle.
See me to talk! I didn't quite understand! But I'm sure with more practice, you [sic] stories will have meaning!
Dream on, lady. But I get paid for it now.
