Notes from facebook
My facebook posts are mostly trivia from everyday life. Here is a sample:
Breakfast was the usual English muffin, toasted. One half was spread with sour cherry jam, the other with Tiptree marmalade. Now I am drinking tea from a glass teapot I almost never use. Very nice. I will make more tea soon. There is yet another study showing that drinking coffee lengthens your life. I think I have coffee covered by the two (small) pots have most mornings. After that, it's almost always tea.
I have gone over the flower bouquets in the living room and removed dead flowers. Next comes checking my favorite political websites. (Always a mistake.) I have two bits of writing business to get done, and then I am going to spend at least an hour on the dread files. I want to have them gone over and cleaned out by the end of August. I have too many folders full of I don’t know what.
I sorted through some old issues of NYRSF from the 90s, trying to figure out why I have kept them. A couple had letters from me. Goddess, I sounded stiff and pompous. It's a strange experience to look back that far -- at myself and the field. I dumped most of the issues
I moved on to a folder of letters and cards. The first letter I opened was an 11-year-old note from my friend Cassandra, who is no longer living. It was an invitation to a dinner to celebrate the Year of the Rat, and it was covered with charming cartoons of rats. She was smart and talented, and life wore her down into a crazy old lady. I decided to put off the folder for a day or two.
Breakfast was the usual English muffin, toasted. One half was spread with sour cherry jam, the other with Tiptree marmalade. Now I am drinking tea from a glass teapot I almost never use. Very nice. I will make more tea soon. There is yet another study showing that drinking coffee lengthens your life. I think I have coffee covered by the two (small) pots have most mornings. After that, it's almost always tea.
I have gone over the flower bouquets in the living room and removed dead flowers. Next comes checking my favorite political websites. (Always a mistake.) I have two bits of writing business to get done, and then I am going to spend at least an hour on the dread files. I want to have them gone over and cleaned out by the end of August. I have too many folders full of I don’t know what.
I sorted through some old issues of NYRSF from the 90s, trying to figure out why I have kept them. A couple had letters from me. Goddess, I sounded stiff and pompous. It's a strange experience to look back that far -- at myself and the field. I dumped most of the issues
I moved on to a folder of letters and cards. The first letter I opened was an 11-year-old note from my friend Cassandra, who is no longer living. It was an invitation to a dinner to celebrate the Year of the Rat, and it was covered with charming cartoons of rats. She was smart and talented, and life wore her down into a crazy old lady. I decided to put off the folder for a day or two.
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