Finally, the internets!

I almost hugged the Time Warner man as he came through the gate this morning.  Not only was he well within the four-hour window, but he hooked us up with the strongest signal in the whole building.  And on top of that, he left his cell phone number in case someone else moves in and steals away our prime cable spot when they hook up their internet/cable.  Bless you, Manuel.

In other news, my friend Todd gave me a shout-out on his brand spankin' new blog, so I thought I'd return the favor.  He does something similar to what I do with poetry, except with music lyrics.  Let's give him a little traffic: go here.

So, happy new year, everyone.  It's a time for new resolutions, but I seem to spend more time trying to keep things the same as they've always been rather than to embrace something new.  Maybe that should be my resolution, to be more open to change. Because damned if change doesn't find me no matter how cleverly I think I elude it.

Dialect of a Skirt

The young girl wanted a new voice. After all, people got
new things every day. A new hip, a new nose, a new set
of suspenders. She adored the consonants that landed
like wooden shoes. She loved the type of L-sounds
that made a mouth drool from the back of the tongue
to the front. She practiced her new voice into seashells,
tin cans, caves. She gave her first performance quietly,
into the ear of her sleeping dog. She could tell by his snorting
that his dreams were of fat tree trunks and black, truffle-filled
soil. Later, she drove to the local gas station and used her new
voice to ask for a pack of cigarettes. She wasn't wearing a bra,
but the attendant didn't notice. He was too busy listening
to the way sound seemed to drip out of her mouth
as she said the word, Camel.

- Erika Miriam Fabri