Archives June 4, 2006

I grow too weary
To hold my tongue
So too sharp words
Escape

How does that pleasant day
Disappear in a few words
Leaving just a wistful memory
Truths perceived as daggers
Murder my happy noon

Is it a fugue, I ask myself
As she plays on the air
Smiling at her motions

Blogging from Linux Caffe. Himy (one of Sacha's friends) is interested in creating neighbourhood-level tools for allowing users to both enhance their own communities and share that information with other similar communities.

I'm thinking it would be helpful if there was a taxonomy of neighbourhood types that would allow communities to self-identify (or be professionally ...

Last night was fun!

First batch of fondue I added cheddar... not a good thing, turned into a sort of cheese ball that people were having to poke and prod apart with their veggies (way too hard for use with bread). Second batch was just about right, stuck to the recipe and it had what ...