. elsewhere . . letters from the inaccessible .


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21 November 2000


a happy thanksgiving metaphor

When you purchase it, you are purchasing a single entity. On the receipt, it occupies one line. In the basket and in the bag, on the shelf and on the countertop, it occupies one space. Perhaps on the receipt there is a secondary reference to a discount on it, but it is a discount reference to one SKU. It is a can of that gelatinous cranberry sauce. You see it not as two, but as one. Late on Thursday afternoon, while you're awaiting a chance to fill your mouth mericlessly with the crimson stuff pulled from within the abdomen of the metal cylinder, you stop and ponder it. Overturned, prostrate, its very shape is the memory of the can's absence. This, you think, is what love is.

What Ocean Spray has brought together, let no one rend apart.

how it is, sometimes

when the phone rings, we just sit there and stare at it, not knowing what, exactly, to do. soon enough, it stops, and then we try not to think about it for a while. but before long, it begins to ring again.

just a thought

There are things which need forgiveness which are not sins.

musings of señor prod.

The Revolution gets more interesting day by day.... appearances are important.

 

©2001 Timothy A. Clark -|-