Nothing to report, except I am “making progress” and I have two months left, supposedly. They’re still over-correcting my cant (fixing the tilting top teeth, which are tilting because of the 9 months spent pulling down the impacted canine) and once that’s over-corrected, they’ll put back on some heavy wires and everything will even out — or so they tell me. Christmas, this will be over, I hope.
August, 2007 Monthly archive
In Disneyland!
Stole this from GP’s blog, hope he doesn’t mind:
I’m reposting a letter from the U.S. Campaign for Burma about the current horrible situation:
As you may know, the situation in Burma has seriously deteriorated. The past four days have seen street demonstrations in Burma’s urban areas, in which peaceful, nonviolent activists have marched calling for the government to reverse its decision to quintuple the price of many basic fuels in the country. Many are also calling for recognition of basic human rights and democracy. Their courage is reminiscint of the history of the brave people of Argentina, Peru, East Timor, South Africa, India, and elsewhere in which peaceful demonstrators have faced deadly force with nothing more than their belief in telling the truth.
We are humbled in particular by the fortitude and dignity of the 300 women that took to the streets after the initial round of arrests.
The demonstrators have been met with brute force by militias of Than Shwe’s military regime. Dozens have been beaten, arrested, and carted off to Burma’s feared torture centers. We are gravely concerned for their immediate well-being. In particular, we are worried about Min Ko Naing and Ko Ko Gyi — the two most important human rights activists inside Burma after Nobel Peace recipient Aung San Suu Kyi. They were arrested when authorities came to their homes at midnight — the feared “midnight knock” inside Burma.
the tennis court was perfect tonight, all black and fluorescent.
between the trees the smell of the harbor wafted, that carcass of summer,
a reminder that nothing stays contained.
i won six games.
and in the house next door, a man faced his open window, typing,
but never noticed our grunts on every hit — much like i couldn’t hear the fighting
that would find us later and, like a slick mosquito, suck a little love out.
now it’s silent
and in the silence there’s a memory of stars i saw over southie
glowing like dying embers of an era past, and past again.
things have almost gone back to the way they were
when the days were light and the nights would last –
but not quite
and in the stillness that’s always followed us,
i can stretch a bit while you reflect — or sleep.
for the morning’s sake, and ours, and the stars’,
i hope it’s deep.
