Two feet of snow…
just fall asleep in this pile of clothes I just took out of the dryer.
This was waiting for me when I got home from Philadelphia tonight = Mom’s a queen
I’ve noticed that more and more people have been dropping the apostrophe in the word you’re and have instead been using your. For instance, “They think your dumb for saying that.”
The linguistics class I took last semester taught me not to place value judgements on the ways people speak. Plus, language, like most things, tends to evolve to better serve the convenience and efficiency of those who use it. So I’m not necessarily knocking it. This sort of thing happens to homophones quite often. Simply noticing and mentioning it because before now, I hadn’t really seen it done. Besides, as long as the point gets across, communication is successful.
[video]
My Grandpa sent this to me in an e-mail. Clearly some folks reacted to the recent blizzard more aggressively than others…
To the black women whom have loved, supported, taught, or generally cared for me at any point in the past two decades,
you keep me
and I love you
I do
my best
[video]
The aspiring hero must contend daily with deliverers of distance if he is ever to find repose among the heavenly bodies of constellations. He has little choice. He decides not the destination, merely the vessel, means, not the end.
He considers first, his obsessions with interesting people and fresh air. He may call on a droning cab driver for travel down such avenues. They would welcome his company, but currency is needed for relationships like those to stay afloat, and he had so little to spare. Without that force of wealth in the foreground, the hero’s choices grew thin like the hair his elders.
His feet have never failed him though. His muscled calves can surely carry him, but they can not satisfy the constraints of time.
There are the smoking, furious others, the giants that live and move quickly underground. Within these groaning beasts, whose bellies we mortals willingly enter with a conviction of convenience, we are closer together, so undoubtedly uncomfortable. We stand or sit, without cushions or chatter, as it shuffles along on its path through the Underworld, past the dwelling of Zeus’ older brother whose fortune left him the lesser of three devils who cut the world in thirds. He was given a wasteland to grow up in unsavory conditions, along with sovereignty over the dead. He can’t help
feeling detached.
The hero is not made of stone. A numbness takes hold over time. With enough exposure to the bony, drafty scenery, the apathetic cousin of Menis creeps into his chest, dulling his senses to some things while exposing raw nerves to others. Suddenly, as though he’d been raised in a rainstorm, the thunder sound of the underground may strike his ears without his once wincing. Yet the smell of souls condemned is all the more pungent in his nostrils. Here is the stamp of his resignation, the meat of his descent. He and his fellow passengers ride on in darkness, drifting to sleep in their own skin while the beast swallows and spits them out, one by one. They are convinced that they can not navigate through the earthly city as long as they long for the sky.
is really inconvenient and stressing me out…but I suppose that’s the whole point of a strike in the first place: an individual or group looking to prove itself to be valuable through the withholding of certain services. I was wholeheartedly convinced of your importance a long time ago though.
So I say to you SEPTA, congratulations, now cut it out. It’s not that I’m really fiending to take the subway again so I can enjoy the sights (half-eaten chicken bones and sunflower seed shells littering the floor) and smells (what I hope isn’t, but am pretty sure is, urine) of City Hall station again, but I do miss having options. The rail is really the only game in town at this point for us commuters. 30th Street station was like a clogged artery this evening. There was a hunger in people’s eyes that I won’t soon forget. People were pushing and shoving, many amongst them believing that their personal hurry was the most pertinent. This happens all the time, but there are usually more venues for it so it at least feels more spread out.
I don’t know why you are dissatisfied, but I sincerely hope that things work out and the flexibility is restored, not just for me, but for everybody. I just want the blood to flow regularly and for everybody’s day to go a bit smoother.
With Love,
Flustered in Philly