Inscription found in The Completed Illustrated Shakespeare in someone else’s house (it’s like finding the scarf of a deceased relative, isn’t it?):

“Ah yes, I miss you.
But I don’t lament
and my sadness is not the kind
that I would do away with.
For all my memories of you
are good, and they linger sweetly.
I will watch for you
in all that is like you,
and I hope you see me
in much that you see.
Someday, or many days, or perhaps
never, we will meet again
and not miss each other
for a little while.
You know the rest –

I love you

- Ed”

now i can’t see straight: the bench is the night
and the night is as much a friend as you, also it’s foggy,
also the raw air mixes bitter with my profound
unawareness — all this

because of the pile of hours we talked instead of sleeping.
The room was so black I could only see white circles
round the corners of my eyes like out-of-focus
fireflies, the outlines of your windows hinting of
dawn and a finished rain.

we’re quiet as prizes for bargaining vendors: I’m like fruit,
you’re like bread: you give up your shoulder, I give over my head,
then all my fingers, then it’s over, we’re six years older,
we never had a chance.

S. is here, being international. It’s been over a year since we lived in the UK together. Now we crouch on the sidewalks of Boston at midnight in January, contemplating where to go next. I’m going nowhere, yet.

Because, if you leave your socks in a pile on your bed for 10 days and no new Netflix movies have arrived, your roommates will inevitably find some way of occupying their time…

“I have a theory, completely hypothetical, of course.” I was vertical, lying on the sleek leather dentist chair. Doc was upside-down above me. “I think these two bottom teeth are glued together. I think they’ve been glued together for the past nine months.”

Doc tapped at it with some sharp instrument and we heard a crack. “Well geeze,” he said, “why didn’t you say something? You really have to learn to communicate with me.”

“I didn’t think I could possibly communicate with you any more than I already do. And I made the ridiculous assumption that, as the doctor, you would have realized by now that you had glued them together.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I’m glad you recognize your assumptions are ridiculous.”

Thus began another normal appointment at the sadistic orthodontist’s. He did some “discing” to the bottom teeth today, which means shaving the sides of them so they’ll line up together more cleanly, and he changed wires, and nothing hurt, and he yelled at me for deciding to attach rubber bands to random teeth, like the FST (formerly sideways tooth) to keep it from floating into the empty space that’s reserved for the canine tooth that is STILL on its slow way down from a sad life of impaction in my gums.

“Listen to me,” Doc chided. “DO NOT do that. DO NOT attach bands to that tooth. People do that, then they wonder why the root dies and their tooth falls out.” Falls out? Is that what happens? Whoops, sorry.

So now we wait another month for nothing to happen. All the speedy progress I made last spring has slowed to a very boring pace, since all my teeth are relatively straight now and the only main concern is the gaping hole in the front of my mouth because of the tooth that won’t show itself.

“You’re doing very well for someone on an 18-month plan,” Doc concluded, much to my horror.

“Maybe,” I said, “But I’m on a ’12 to 14-month plan’, quote unquote, at least according to you last year.” So the moral of Round Fifteen is that my doctor is a liar, even if the lying is for my own good.

I’m no longer amused by this adventure. I want them off, I want them off, I want to bite into filet mignon, I want to not savor the taste of stretchy latex. Baaaaaaaaaaa!

someone robbed the drug store tonight while i was shopping for tissues.
the young pharmacist ran frantic with his lips dry and open,

leaped behind the counter and
phoned the police, breathless. the rest of us
moved in very slow motion as if we were
in water or someone else’s dream.

it’s the new pollen season: love and
love’s endings are in the air, making us sneeze.
i think about

my future, your future, your decisions,
all the nights this city has clouded us from
silver stars and a black expanse.

i’m talking about you, friend, and you, man, even the robber
sprinting through the back streets of Brookline like it’s
the most important thing he’s ever done.

I’m going to see Mardi Gras: Made in China tomorrow after work, described accordingly: “David Redmon’s sly, engrossing documentary is an expert riposte to smug proponents of globalization.” Who wants to come with me?

Gripped by a stunning nostalia for the late 80s/early 90s punk era, although punk and I didn’t meet until the later 90s, I spent a whopping $6 on iTunes tonight buying several Jawbreaker songs off their ETC album. It could have something to do with the fact that it’s 3a, but dang, Shirt is ridiculous, and Boxcar’s a classic.

Google isn’t releasing any info to the government, says Wired.

That’s cool.

The smarties at Lifehacker have just reported on the latest feature in iTunes: video sharing. But what’s cooler, in my opinion, are the iTunes video podcast tutorials. Right now I’m watching Photoshop TV, which puts out weekly episodes. There’s also DV Gear Talk and Digital Bootcamp, and hundreds of additional topics, for those of you with interests other than digital media.

In other non-AV techie news, I just got a stat report of my site traffic which included the best Google search term ever that’s led to my blog: “we will be doing a full mouth extraction and making a denture for you said dentist I cried”