The joys of co-renting

Me: So, Ali, I have a vaguely awkward question.
Ali: 'Kay.
Me: The other day you mentioned that you giggle whenever you hear me fart over in my bedroom. [Which is totally fair, I should note; I would, too --Ed.]
Ali: Yes, I do.
Me: So... can you hear me masturbating?
Ali: No.
Me: Ah.  Good.  Well, sorry for the awkwardness.
Ali: Hey, whatever.  Less awkward since I didn't have to lie!

Louisiana

I teared up when I read rnbowpixy's "I'm alive and well" post.  I didn't realize how worried I was about all of my Louisiana folks.  I know that my friends are smart and safe, but it's a fucking hurricane, and I can't get out of this weird flashback to frantically searching the internet for one of my coworkers who I knew was still in NOLA when Katrina hit.  I love you all, and you're in my prayers.

Poem: Lucie Brock-Broido's "Pamphlet on Ravening"

This is really more for my own notekeeping than anything else, but it's a good poem.  You might as well read it (oh, and this one has the same typesetting problems as I've had in setting my own poems in HTML).

Pamphlet on Ravening (Trouble in Mind. New York: Knopf, 2004.  67.)

You cannot will intoxication, vertigo, a ravening or wild
                         Love.  Of wisdom, I have plenty,

Like a keep of potted meats before the blizzard comes.
                         Of sweetness, I've a bowl of plenty, too,

Though it's against the law to harbor wonder

In the prison of the Post-Hellenic world where
                                           I move easily
Miraculous and moving

                                           On the slower barge
Up the River Hubris in the post-curiouser world.
                                                                    Wondrous:

I was a hunger artist once, as well.
                                            My bones had shone.
                                            I had rapture on my side.