Going through more old papers
and things I should throw away.
This used to be so important so lifeordeath
isnt' it? we know, we know, I know already so can we
stop
hearing about it
for one second
please?

92% of rapists go unpunished
Harper's weekly featured an item from the American Bar Association's journal noting that few rapists are punished for their crime: only one in ten rapes is reported, and only one out of 13 reported rapes ends in conviction. To demonstrate why most rape victims choose not to press charges, the dialogue asks us to imagine a robbery victim undergoing the same sort of cross-examination a rape victim does:


"Mr. Smith, you were held up at gunpoint on the corner of First and Main?"
"Yes."
"Did you struggle with the robber?"
"No. He was armed."
"Then you made a conscious decision to comply with his demands rather than resist?"
"Yes."
"Did you scream? Cry out?"
"No. I was afraid."
"I see. Have you been held up before?"
"No."
"Have you ever given money away?"
"Yes, of course."
"And you did so willingly?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, let's put it like this, Mr. Smith. You've given money away in the past. In fact, you have quite a reputation for philanthropy. How can we be sure you weren't contriving to have your money taken?"
"Listen, if I wanted--"
"Never mind. What time did this holdup take place?"
"About 11pm."
"You were out on the street at 11pm? Doing what?"
"Just walking."
"Just walking? You know that it's dangerous being out on the street that late at night. Weren't you aware that you could have been held up?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"What were you wearing?"
"Let's see -- a suit. Yes, a suit."
"An expensive suit?"
"Well yes. I'm a successful lawyer, you know."
"In other words, Mr. Smith, you were walking around the streets late at night in a suit that practically advertised the fact that you might be a good target for some easy money, isn't that so? If we didn't know better, Mr. Smith, we might even think you were asking for this to happen, mightn't we?"

Issues burnout. I just want Joni Mitchell and coffee and warm lap.

you being in love
will tell who softly asks in love,

am i separated from your body smile brain hands merely
to become the jumping puppets of a dream? oh i mean:
entirely having in my careful how
careful arms created this at length
inexcusable, this inexplicable pleasure--you go from several
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
slowly, oh seriously
--that since and if you disappear

solemnly
myselves
ask "life, the question how do i drink dream smile

and how do i prefer this face to another and
why do i weep eat sleep--what does the whole intend"
they wonder. oh and they cry "to be, being, that i am alive
this absurd fraction in its lowest terms
with everything cancelled
but shadows
--what does it all come down to? love? Love
if you like and i like,for the reason that i
hate people and lean out of this window is love,love
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason
that i do not fall into this street is love."


-- edward estlin c.

Today Louise Gluck was named the new U.S. Poet Laureate. Excellent.

FAQ: Foire aux questions

Battle cry. after nap. the body hostage. sleep.whose rights? red umbrellas. still the cars whoosh by. sleep. did I? last night five. hours and up again, the usual. wind through leaves japanese maple. red trees. pink stars. bitten. 'night.

[Firefly] Time for my prayers:
[Firefly] Our Father, who 0wnz heaven, j00 r0ck!
[Firefly] May all 0ur base someday be belong to you!
[Firefly] May j00 0wn earth just like j00 0wn heaven.
[Firefly] Give us this day our warez, mp3z, and pr0n through a phat pipe.
[Firefly] And cut us some slack when we act like n00b lamerz, just as we teach n00bz when they act lame on us.
[Firefly] Please don't give us root access on some poor d00d'z box when we're too pissed off to think about what's right and wrong, and if you could keep the fbi off our backs, we'd appreciate it.
[Firefly] For j00 0wn r00t on all our b0x3s 4ever and ever, 4m3n.

from bash.org via B. Luff j00.

LXXVI

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.

-- W.S. still on letters and such and all the rest

the 22nd: On the road. Dorothy Parker's birthday.
the 23rd: In Vermont in a tent. My birthday.
the 24th: In bed in the grass in the sky. A month until Peter's birthday.
the 25th: About to begin. My first day and a week until 'school' starts. Twelve emails and letters begun. I don't like being a far-off stranger.

Thank you for the birthday cards and letters and (missed) calls; it always surprises me when days are remembered. Even I forgot, for heaven's sake. Reasonable posts with substantive content are always waiting 'til tomorrow. Want cats and good people - a housefull though I haven't got a house, quite. Company. I think the tummy is almost well enough for a Manhattan... Maybe just tea tonight.

Laura is now here (in 3rd Company). The built chick with chin-length blonde hair: 7th photo down, third cadet from the right. I'm still not sure we're really sisters.