Spinning Yarns

I’m not done with the story. I will continue working on it as time permits, and post pieces of it here, as I have begun doing. But in the meantime, life goes on around me, and I will not neglect it.

Today, Howard Dean announced that he is withdrawing from the race to become the Democratic Party’s nominee for President in the forthcoming election. After a series of primary losses, I think it was probably the right decision, and I can hardly say I didn’t see it coming. Nevertheless, I think it is sad. I don’t care much for John Kerry, who seems to be the current darling of the Party and the Press. I’m fairly sure I’d vote for him over George W. Bush, if it comes to that, but I’m having trouble believing Kerry could beat Bush in the general election.

But, the popularity contest notwithstanding, we the people go on prosecuting the business of our lives in the best way we can, hoping for the best. Longer daylight, clear crisp nights full of stars, and progress on my research have restored a lot of clarity to my outlook which I had lost in the tribulations of 2003, and that’s something to be pleased about in itself.

Filed by Michael at 16:39 under Personal, Political
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Stein stalked into the office at a quarter past eight Friday morning, and dropped a fat copy of The Telegraph squarely in the middle of Bill Robertson’s blotter. Robertson raised an eyebrow, put down his pen, and turned up a corner of the paper with his forefinger. He couldn’t tell if Stein was shocked or angry.

Probably both, he mused. Stein was never one to react by halves. (more…)

Filed by Michael at 16:21 under Political, Story
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In the very last moment
 before the glass slid to,
pneumatic pssh, and the gleaming rails
 bore you away into an electric dawn,
I was poised,
  ready,
    short only of breath --
or at least, it was possible.

Now, a thousand days,
 and a thousand nights passed, and I,
lying starkly wakeful in the white light
 of a perfect winter moon,
began to wonder
  how:
    how can we unwind
those thousand days and nights,

To the very last moment
 before the glass slid to,
pneumatic pssh, and the gleaming rails
 bore you away into that cool electric dawn,
While I stood, poised,
  frozen,
    unable to merely say,
just how much I love you.

Filed by Michael at 20:19 under Poetry
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