Monthly Archive for April, 2009


Pansies are pansies, or so I’ve been told.
And yet on my porch, hanging out in the cold
Is a potful of purple pigmenting the air.
It’s 40 degrees and they don’t even care.
Petunias for sale at Home Depot and Lowe’s,
Like my tuckus when outside all seem to be froze.
But the pansies are hardy, har har, so that spring
Being later than Elvis, just don’t mean a thing.
As the color so bright spilling out of their pot shows,
They’re misnamed as pansies. They ought to be machos.

Hey! Where’d the Cuttlefish Go?

Man, those color-changing creatures sure can be hard to find sometimes.

Digital Cuttlefish!
Bustin’ out rhymes
After all doesn’t pay.

His disguise is remarkable
Here and now gone! He just
Melted away.

Good luck, DC! We’ll catch you on the flipside.

Things I Hate, Part 3

People who go “mmm” at the theatre every time anything remotely interesting or moving happens on stage. Especially when they take it to the next level and start answering questions one actor asks another. Yes, I’m talking to you, lady who was sitting next to me at columbinus last night. Do you sing along at musicals, too?

Temporality in Memoriality

At 6:48 this morning, a chilly sun rose over the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the National Mall.  Present were members of some local veterans groups, a group of cadets from the Civil Air Patrol, and one actor and two techies from One Red Flower.  First Saturday of the month, from April through November, the veterans and cadets grab hoses and buckets and wash the wall.  Local vet Bill Gray had invited us to join them when he saw ORF last month.

The most moving part of the Vietnam Wall is its unavoidable presentation of the personal reality of the war:  At any time during the day there are people taking rubbings of names, leaving memorials, and looking up friends in the index books.  These are not just 58,260 names, they are friends and family of people still living.  Most of the docents were there, serving alongside the people represented in marble.

Eventually that will no longer be true.  What will that mean for the meaning of the monument? Continue reading ‘Temporality in Memoriality’

Things I Hate, Part 2

The only thing worse than trying to piece together the puzzle of someone else’s code that was abandoned in the middle of converting to a brand-new architecture, with parts of the old stuff still remaining but some parts brand-new, many of which are still interdependent, with similar names because they do almost the same thing but don’t need exactly the same inputs or give the same outputs, and no documentation of how far along the changes have gotten, because like I said it was abandoned in mid-stream,

is when the code is my own.

I’m gonna need a bigger tea mug.