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10:51 p.m. Notice the fuzzy outline around the photo! Pretty spiffy, eh? It's only taken me all day and all nighty, all righty. By ICQing with my daughter for several hours and then through dinner, I was finally able to grasp some of the concepts behind the transparent layers and such. I remember when I bought the book Give Your Child a Superior Mind in 1966. It really worked! I've since given the book away, of course, and I certainly wish I still owned it now that I have the time to do some sit-down lessons with my inner child. It's a far better investment than any bright yellow dummy's guide to getting pregnant or the complete idiot's guide to rearing them young 'uns. I actually saw it again on a table at a used-book sale a few years later, but an immigrant dad from Guatemala grabbed it up before I could get to it. He saw me lunge for it, and we got into a conversation about children and our hopes for them and now you're probably working for the kid he raised. If you ever see that book, buy it and don't let it out of your sight. Go as far as you can with it, and then you might as well teach your kids the inevitable lesson that parents are fallible and only human. I fell off the wagon with the exercises that lead you and the brainy moppet beyond the decimal system with nothing more exotic than an egg crate and 144 beans. But I digress. |
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Note, also, the fabulous shadow on the picture of toast. Ditto. Bravo. Primo. Now, I will pick up the scattered crumbs of my little story. Already I've had the recurring dream of trying to make dinner without any supplies, for a mob of people who are none too sanguine. Plus, Jeanette Winterson was in the dream, darn peeved that I told her I'd read her book when I hadn't. Are there any more links I can procrastinate with? Well, actually, yes. I'm just about finished with my own entire links page -- just a few more fancy touches needed -- of all the other journals I read whenever I have a chance. This one has been the hardest page to do of all the pages, short of the one I'm typing right now. It's literary kamikaze, I tell you. You shoot it up there, you miss the mark, you go down in flames. I have tried to put that page together a hundred different ways. Some of the attempts:
I've decided, after much thought and fussing, that I'll keep my extravagent praise for the individual journal and writer tucked away here in these private pages, where I can go on at length and in fine detail when I read something that I think you might also like. I'll mark those sincere, but somewhat suck-up moments with a computer air-kiss: * that you can follow to the source. I've also decided, after much thought and soul-searching, to keep my negative feelings to myself. As best I can. It will still seep out from time to time, I just know it, because I am leaky. If I see just one more ... but there, you see ... I'm not going to say it. I'm going to just caulk away instead. Mostly, the page is done, and it's a start. So go. Check the links and find some new invisible little friends. Let me know if I've misjudged you or your persona or your almost-best friend. Let me know if a link has gone bad or if I'm missing someone good. Go, enjoy. Come back tomorrow. Visit the universal thump: the gig is finally up. |
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