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And Bats, That With A Kiss, Turn Prince For You
That’s about it for this blog. If I return, then I will, without much fanfare. But with over two years of my time, over one hundred pieces of writing, and with nothing progressing from this point, I believe my efforts here are finished, and largely, have met their end. That’s not to say that it…
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To The Half-Russian, With Love
That’s the only existing picture of Victor Bonderoff I could find online; I have none of my own. This had to be the 70s. Or maybe it’s the 80s. I really don’t know. I hadn’t thought about Victor in several years. Our last bit of communication was back in the summer of 2018, and it…
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There is simply…
…no place else on this gorgeous planet I’d rather live three blocks away from. And that is all I need to say about THAT. So in keeping with my current thing–we all need to have a current thing–about the inclusion of musical faves on this blog, here’s one for all of you, because it is…
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Public Service Announcement Time
Absolute state of this rapacious weasel. I would be remiss in my duties as a nobody blogger if I didn’t remind every last Canadian to submit a claim in a class-action bread lawsuit against Loblaws and every last stinking grocery store they own. It’s too good to be true, and it sounds like a topic…
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90s I-Have-All-The-Answers Manifesto
For real, that’s the first page of a document that is twenty-nine years old if it’s a day. I have hauled this thing out of its home on my bookshelf every eon or so to see if what I wrote when I was 20 still holds up–and I have also stumbled across it over the…
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…in the meantime, Jack White, you must know something:
I’m quite busy with my day job and with writing a whole pile of stuff (my first excruciating book, upcoming blog posts about nothing of any consequence), but I have said this once, twice, three times a lady: I will never kick you out of bed for sitting on my face. I don’t care what…
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Halfway to 98, I am
Take me to church…for a sick-ass choral performance tonight! Let’s hope I’m not at my halfway point. My dearest grandmother stuck it out until she was something like 94 years old–basically deaf, blind, immobile, yet entirely and maddeningly lucid, at least for her–and complained that she was just “loitering” by that point. At least she…
