Cafe Poulard

The nook is a full ten feet above the floor, formed by a corner where two soaring bookcases meet, and on a level with the yellow glass lamps that hang from the ceiling, each shining with a gentle radiance.  There is a ladder to climb so you can reach it; pillows there for comfort, and thick books to read.  We sit side by side in it, touching each other, cradling the books in our laps, and I can feel her breathing, smell the scent of her.  I know what she’s going to say sometimes, before she says it.

She closes her book and slumps against me, lets her head fall to my shoulder.  “I have to go,” she whispers, pushing a strand of white hair out of her eyes. Read the rest of this entry »

Blueprint

Since NOW I’m home…

Apartment Hunt: the Fear of God

Searched Craigslist for a while and came up with three potential apartments I deemed worthy of further inquiry:

The first apartment was actually a whole house.  It listed at a price that couldn’t possibly be correct and did not specify its exact town of location, but there were pictures, and it looked nice, so I sent an e-mail (through Craigslist;  no other contact information had been provided.)  I received an immediate, courteous reply, in perfect English, discussing the property and the evaluation process for prospective tenants at length.  The reply had weird paragraphs full of punctuation symbols at the top and bottom, came from a random-letter Hotmail address, and contained a number of plausible reasons why the Craigslist ad was short on such specifics as the property’s exact address.  It asked me to submit to a pre-certifying credit evaluation and search for prior evictions before meeting with the evaluating agent, by going to a specified website, using a link they provided, and filling out a quick form there.  (It also mentioned that some people were not comfortable with this process, and if so, they certainly understood, but that they wouldn’t waste time showing me the apartment without it.)  The website had a very similar name to another credit-check organization, but generated no hits or identification itself when searched on Google.

My friend Pigbristles did a quick search or two on my behalf, and by all accounts, this is almost certainly an identity theft scam:  had I provided any information on their “credit-check” site, it would have been used to open accounts in my name, etcetera, and I would never have heard from them again.  Or perhaps they would have shown me the place the pictures were of, then “corrected” the price to something outrageous, so I would’ve gone away angry at the misunderstanding, oblivious to their true purpose.  Either way, I didn’t bite.

The ad for the second apartment provided a direct-contact e-mail, so I sent them a letter, too.  I received an animated reply the next day, heaping blessings upon me and revealing to me the actual address of the property–  but also discussing at length how they were looking for an upright soul with the “Fear of God” whom they could count upon to treat their house as their own, and whom they looked forward to becoming not only their tenant, but their “future friend”.  I sent them a brief response claiming that I had found a different location that better suited my needs, and wishing them luck.

The ad for the third apartment allowed one to contact through Craigslist, or call directly by phone.  I sent an e-mail through Craigslist.  I haven’t heard back from them yet.

In the meantime, I have discovered that the widow two doors down the street has a nearly identical apartment to the one I am living  in now at her house, and is losing her tenant on Saturday, and is looking for a new one.

Surprise!

Got back from my vacation to discover a hand-lettered envelope with my name on it taped to the door with blue painter’s tape.  Inside was…

[drum roll]

… a legal notice!  I’ve been served!  The landlord is kicking me out on April 30th!

Kinda sucks.  But thank the Goddess, I’ll finally finally FINALLY get to leave Sealand.

I hope…

Conflict

Drew a pretty mermaid.  Wish that I was home so that I could scan her and put her up.

Oh, wait, no I don’t.  *)

Surety

Ace:  (unleashes barrage at hostile plant in Metroid Prime)

Jack:  He’s dead.  He’s dead!

Ace:  (switches to Thermal Visor) Not until he’s cold and dead.  (pumps bullets into the fading heat signature)

Zero

Whole-wheat corn pancakes with wildflower honey, oven-cooked bacon and organic Shade-Grown Mexican coffee in a Mikasa china cup on the table for breakfast.  And Eve’s lights are all in white and teal.

It’s gonna be a good day.  :)



Profiling

When you’re wearin’ jeans, muskrat boots, and a black bomber jacket, and have a cowboy hat slewed down over your eyes, and are carrying a Fed Ex box, the street recruiters for Children International don’t bother to stop you and ask if you want to volunteer.

Heh.

Change Me

After a night and a day of howling, roaring, shrieking wind-  wind strong enough to throw full garbage cans of recycling out into the street,  strong enough to bend trees double and rattle the bedframe in the bedroom through the walls-  the sky has torn open to robin’s egg blue and brilliant sun, and the mewing of seagulls circling overhead on the wing.

The Wheel is turning.

His Name is Athansor

The horse beneath me seemed
To know what course to steer
Through the horror of snow I dreamed,
And so I had no fear,

Nor was I chilled to death
By the wind’s white shudders, thanks
To the veils of his patient breath
And the mist of sweat from his flanks.

It seemed that all night through,
Within my hand no rein
And nothing in my view
But the pillar of his mane,

I rode with magic ease
At a quick, unstumbling trot
Through shattering vacancies
On into what was not,

Till the weave of the storm grew thin,
With a threading of cedar-smoke,
And the ice-blind pane of an inn
Shimmered, and I awoke.

How shall I now get back
To the inn-yard where he stands,
Burdened with every lack,
And waken the stable-hands

To give him, before I think
That there was no horse at all,
Some hay, some water to drink,
A blanket and a stall?

–The Ride by Richard Wilbur