all my internet friends

this is awesome– forwarded to me by my friend laurel: her friend amanda french sings about the kind of culture we know here on vox.

All My Internet Friends

Monday afternoon I gave a presentation to the staffKicked off with a knock-knock joke to liven up the charts and grapThat crowdNever laughs out loud
But all my internet friends were tickled pinkThey put animated smileys when they passed around the linkThey said Hey, girl, here’s another awesome thing we foundSarah Palin getting smacked down With a Prince song in the backgroundBetter watch it quick before they take it down
Wednesday night I figured I’d go out and buy a DVD Walked into a store and walked right out again immediatelyThis sucksThey want thirty bucks
But all my internet friends give things awayThey just really like to make stuff even when it doesn’t payThey say, Hey, girl, here’s a picture, here’s a poem tooHere’s a blog post, here’s a podcast Here’s a song and here’s a lolcatAnd an iPhone application all for you
Saturday I had a date with Dave the software engineerTold him bout the time I got my headphones wrapped around my earI swearHe just didn’t care
But all my internet friends they listen wellThey make sympathetic comments when I say that I’m in hellThey say Hey, girl, what’s your status? I say, Omigod,I’m not sleeping, I’m not eating I can’t take another meetingWith the clean, well-meaning morons at my job
There are those who say I spend a little too much time onlineSometimes I agree, but on the whole I think I’m doing fineClick, buzzI feel strong becauseAll my internet friends are here with me Saying Love and information want only to be freeAnd we’ll take no crap from anyone who says that they know betterWe won’t stand for that because we all came here together We’re remaining interwovenWe’re a net, and we have chosenTo be knotted tightly to each otherYou be client, I’ll be server We won’t ever have to be alone

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this morning

raspberry muffins and russian angst.

On a rugged cliff, the very edge, above the endless chasm I keep lashing at my horses with my whip clenched in a spasm But the air is growing thinner, I am gasping, drowning, crying I can sense with horrid wonder, I am vanishing, I’m dying
chorus: Slow your gallop, oh my horses! Slow your gallop I say! Don’t you listen to my stinging whip! But the horses I was given, stubborn and so unforgiving, Can’t complete the life I’m living, cant conclude the verse I’m singing
final chorus: Can’t complete the life I’m living, at least let me finish singing
I will stop for a blink, I will let horses drink For a brief second more, I will stand on the brink…
I will perish, as a feather that the hurricane has swallowed, In a chariot they’ll pull me through the snow in blinding gallop All I ask of you my horses, slow your pace but for a moment To prolong the final seconds of approach to my last comfort
chorus
We have made it. Right on time, God has left us with few choices But the why are angels singing with such fiendish scolding voices, Or it that the horse bell ringing in a frenzy drenched with tears, Or is it I the one who’s screaming for my horses to shift gears?
chorus

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because gratitude is a practice

(as the lovely bodhibound reminds me.)

on sunday afternoon I went to the animal shelter for volunteer orientation– I’m going to be a dog person (they make you choose between dogs and cats), so we took a couple of the guys out and about. felt really good to be around dogs– just the tail-wagging, panting, happyface energy of them did more good for me than I can say. so now I’m just waiting for the call to schedule my first real training shift.

first snows, bunchy drifty flake clumps. the other evening I stood out in it for a bit, just watching as I spoke on the phone with my sweet friend moni back in iowa.

payday and grocery shopping. making chicken soup from the carcass.

the anticipation of being reunited with someone you love and miss.

the signposts on my block without caps that yodel mournfully in the wind off the lake.

finding parking right away.

a cup of hot tea and a home-baked muffin.

knocking out debt bit by bit.

jaw and neck feeling much better.

vox friends. cell phones.

having a job to complain about going to. :)

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vulnerability

… is excruciating. watching one another stumble and have anvils dropped from above. any of us makes a fine target for whatever causes things to fall and break. bones break, hearts and minds. we heal and scar and favor the pink flesh– and sometimes we poke at it, repeatedly, to remember we are alive.

it is terrible to watch our parents wither before us– and surely unimaginably worse to look on our childrens’ wounds and misalignments. we grow crooked against adversity, or out of sheer perversity, we bend, we knot, we grow onward. our shape defines itself against an indomitable wind or wall. we wear out, run down, expire. there is dread in the undoing, in the unknowing– vulnerability in the face of– what? vulnerability itself, not even knowing. or only half-knowing. suspecting and second-guessing ourselves in circles, routines of preparation, edifices against the softness of the belly.