What Was the Name of That Book?

I remem­ber read­ing a book–no, a series–in the ear­ly 90s or so. The clear­est mem­o­ry I have is that there was some sort of drug that made any­one who took it “perfect”–healthy, beau­ti­ful, ath­let­ic, etc. It was also addic­tive after just one dose, and there was no way to get off it–to stop tak­ing it meant death. The main character’s wife was dosed with it so that the sup­pli­ers could con­trol the hero. I think the pro­tag­o­nist was white, and seem to recall that his wife was described as hav­ing an Afro.

Does that trig­ger any mem­o­ries for any­one?

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TotD: Carter Heyward on Love

Carter Hey­ward:

Love, like truth and beau­ty, is con­crete. Love is not fun­da­men­tal­ly a sweet feel­ing; not, at heart, a mat­ter of sen­ti­ment, attach­ment, or being “drawn toward.” Love is active, effec­tive, a mat­ter of mak­ing rec­i­p­ro­cal and mutu­al­ly ben­e­fi­cial rela­tion with one’s friends and ene­mies. Love cre­ates right­eous­ness, or jus­tice, here on earth. To make love is to make jus­tice. As advo­cates and activists for jus­tice know, lov­ing involves strug­gle, resis­tance, risk. Peo­ple work­ing today on behalf of women, blacks, les­bians and gay men, the aging, the poor in this coun­try and else­where know that mak­ing jus­tice is not a warm, fuzzy expe­ri­ence. I think also that sex­u­al lovers and good friends know that the most com­pelling rela­tion­ships demand hard work, patience, and a will­ing­ness to endure ten­sions and anx­i­ety in cre­at­ing mutu­al­ly empow­er­ing bonds.

For this rea­son lov­ing involves com­mit­ment. We are not auto­mat­ic lovers of self, oth­ers, world, or God. Love does not just hap­pen. We are not love machines, pup­pets on the strings of a deity called “love.” Love is a choice–not sim­ply, or nec­es­sar­i­ly, a ratio­nal choice, but rather a will­ing­ness to be present to oth­ers with­out pre­tense or guile. Love is a con­ver­sion to humanity–a will­ing­ness to par­tic­i­pate with oth­ers in the heal­ing of a bro­ken world and bro­ken lives. Love is the choice to expe­ri­ence life as a mem­ber of the human fam­i­ly, a part­ner in the dance of life, rather than as an alien in the world or as a deity above the world, aloof and apart from human flesh.

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Lawn Sanity!

I detest grass. I’m so aller­gic that I con­sid­er the stuff a per­son­al attack. Beyond that, I’ve always con­sid­ered all the mon­ey and ener­gy that is put into ined­i­ble crops that aren’t even pret­ty to be a dis­gust­ing form of con­spic­u­ous con­sump­tion.

I cheered out loud when I read this arti­cle: The Incred­i­ble, Edi­ble Front Lawn

It makes so much more sense–and it’s pret­ti­er, too! Peo­ple actu­al­ly eat­ing what the grow, instead of grow­ing it to cut it. Wow.

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What’s the Opposite of Speed? Slowth?

We’re sup­posed to have the high­est-speed res­i­den­tial ser­vice avail­able from Com­cast, dar­nit. I will say that the ser­vice is much faster than any­thing we ever got on DSL.

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Books & Cute Photo

Total­ly unre­lat­ed to any­thing else: Squee! (Thanks, AMQ!)

For some odd rea­son, I got this weird notion about track­ing down as many of the books I’ve read as pos­si­ble. No, I don’t know why.
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TotD: Eating and Drinking

This pas­sage remind­ed me of Sam:

Peo­ple ask me: Why do you write about food, and eat­ing and drink­ing? Why don’t you write about the strug­gle for pow­er and secu­ri­ty, and about love, the way oth­ers do?

They ask it accus­ing­ly, as if I were some­how gross, unfaith­ful to the hon­or of my craft.

The eas­i­est answer is to say that, like most oth­er humans, I am hun­gry.

But there is more than that. It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and secu­ri­ty and love, are so mixed and min­gled and entwined that we can­not straight­ly think of one with­out the oth­ers. So it hap­pens that when I write of hunger, I am real­ly writ­ing about love and the hunger for it … and then the warmth and rich­ness and fine real­i­ty of hunger sat­is­fied … and it is all one.

The Art of Eating
From The Art of Eat­ing by M.F.K. Fish­er

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Poly? Please to take survey!

Danielle Duplassie, MA, RCC, a Doc­tor­al Stu­dent in Human Sex­u­al­i­ty at The Insti­tute for the Advanced Study of Human Sex­u­al­i­ty, sent a request to one of the lists I’m on tonight seek­ing polyamorous peo­ple to take a sur­vey that is part of her research. It won’t even take you five min­utes. Go clicky!

Edit­ed: Whoops! I’ve been remind­ed that I should warn you–there are no graph­ics to speak of on the sur­vey, but the lan­guage gets explic­it, so you might not want to do the sur­vey at work.

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Monday and R.I.P. George Carlin

I guess every­body has heard, by now, that we lost George Car­lin last night. I’ve seen many arti­cles about him today, but I think Susie Bright did the best job of catch­ing his spir­it.

Today was a very Mon­day-ish Mon­day. I’m grumpy and noth­ing feels right. The girl is off spend­ing time with my fam­i­ly, and I miss her. Kyoshi is utter­ly inconsolable–he’s actu­al­ly mak­ing lit­tle “meep­ing” nois­es fre­quent­ly. For a cat who is absolute­ly silent most of the time, that’s seri­ous. He’s real­ly a one-human cat. That may be part of the rea­son that I’m hav­ing ter­ri­ble kit­ten crav­ings. Of course, I want kit­tens most of the time, but it’s even more so late­ly. And I miss Kar­li, too.

School is over for a few weeks. Accord­ing to the school’s records, I only have two more semes­ters to go. I may need to take a break any­way, as I bare­ly fin­ished this semester’s class­es.

On a hap­pi­er note, Sam made ham­burg­ers after he got home. It’s been a while since he cooked those, and they’re much bet­ter than fast food burg­ers. He’s work­ing on Heart of the Hunter and should have a new chap­ter post­ed some­time this week.

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Singing the Joys of WordPress

I have to say, I do love the fact that Word­Press allows me to write posts and sched­ule them to post them­selves to cov­er days when I don’t feel up to blog­ging. I’ve been hav­ing a lot of trou­ble view­ing the mon­i­tor lately–my eyes feel like they’re danc­ing and noth­ing stays in focus, lead­ing to migraines very quick­ly. That is not a good thing when I’m in the last week of class­es for the semes­ter!
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Readings & Socializing

Note: This entry went in a total­ly dif­fer­ent direc­tion than where I thought I was head­ed! It got very long, and wan­dered around a lot. I got into some­thing that’s real­ly been eat­ing at me for a long time, though, and I’d real­ly appre­ci­ate some feed­back.

I should have my micro­phone tak­en away. I record­ed sev­er­al more poems for some rea­son, but haven’t post­ed them any­where because I real­ly love hear­ing them with the music Sam adds. His edit­ing exper­tise always makes me sound much bet­ter, too! Sam got me wor­ried about copy­right issues, which is why I haven’t post­ed them to Live Read­ings yet.

I miss read­ings. Live gath­er­ings of peo­ple, close­ly or loose­ly con­nect­ed, who come togeth­er to share pas­sages of prose or poet­ry with each oth­er. Not the sort where peo­ple get up at a podi­um, or an event arranged for a par­tic­u­lar author, just friends and acquain­tances shar­ing the joy of the word. If there are authors in the group who share pas­sages of what­ev­er they’re work­ing on, so much the bet­ter! If not, well, there’s a wealth of mate­r­i­al out there that just begs to be heard, that can­not be ful­ly appre­ci­at­ed on the page. I owe my dis­cov­ery of G.K. Chester­ton to such a group, and a renewed inter­est in Mark Twain.
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