<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960</id><updated>2011-07-08T00:17:23.426-04:00</updated><category term='literature'/><category term='Native American'/><title type='text'>writing around someone</title><subtitle type='html'>I write every day. Sometimes fiction, more often commentary on political events and personalities, art and music, or literature. It's hard to nail me down to one thing, so this blog is where I put items that interest me that are connected, in general, with the Arts.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>129</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-894358440180726564</id><published>2010-03-07T06:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T06:07:24.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some news is good news</title><summary type='text'>Newspaper fans dismayed by  the low quality of for-profit-only newspapers these days may find cause for hope in Chicago:
As Chicago’s struggling newspapers cut back on coverage, an ambitious news cooperative run by a former Tribune editor and heavily staffed by Trib refugees has emerged to pursue public service journalism. Its premier client: the New York Times.Read more about this public </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/894358440180726564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/894358440180726564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#894358440180726564' title='Some news is good news'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-7079272196859026542</id><published>2009-12-16T20:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T20:41:18.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I came upon  poet Joshua Poteet this evening as was quite taken with the following lines (I cannot align them as he had them, which detracts more than I would have thought):I apologize on behalf of the dead.                         They do not mean to hurt us.                 They show us a way to be in the world,                          then leave us for the deer and salt licks,the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/7079272196859026542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/7079272196859026542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#7079272196859026542' title=''/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-1540060965573445916</id><published>2007-03-17T04:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-17T05:30:22.737-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Native American'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literature'/><title type='text'>New Alexie book Flight  due out soon</title><summary type='text'>Sherman Alexie, movie-maker, poet and novelist, and a favorite of mine, has a new book due out and will be touring the country to promote it. He'll be in the Northeast US in June;  following are the tour dates:New York, NYJune 4 - 7 p.m.Barnes &amp; NoblePhiladelphia, PA June 5 - 7 p.m.Free Library of PhiladelphiaWashington, DCJune 6 - 7 p.m.Olsson'sBoston, MAJune 7 - 7 p.m.Porter Square BooksHmmmm I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/1540060965573445916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/1540060965573445916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html#1540060965573445916' title='New Alexie book &lt;em&gt;Flight&lt;/em&gt;  due out soon'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-116843170475746895</id><published>2007-01-10T07:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T07:23:57.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something rotten.........</title><summary type='text'>The Times has an interesting juxtaposition of headlines on the front page of its online news, perhaps more prominent to a non-sports reader like me.Sensitive Noses Show How City Has ChangedLeslie B. Vosshall, who studies the sense of smell, said that after Sept. 11, 2001, people became more attuned to possible dangers....Steroid Cloud Stops McGwire From Entering HallThe former slugger was shunned</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116843170475746895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116843170475746895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html#116843170475746895' title='Something rotten.........'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-116843167732173290</id><published>2007-01-10T07:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T07:21:17.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something rotten.........</title><summary type='text'>The Times has an interesting juxtaposition of headlines on the front page of its online news, perhaps more prominent to a non-sports reader like me.Sensitive Noses Show How City Has ChangedLeslie B. Vosshall, who studies the sense of smell, said that after Sept. 11, 2001, people became more attuned to possible dangers....Steroid Cloud Stops McGwire From Entering HallThe former slugger was shunned</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116843167732173290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116843167732173290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html#116843167732173290' title='Something rotten.........'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-116506427146875107</id><published>2006-12-02T07:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-02T07:59:56.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Willimantic</title><summary type='text'>Hannu Makipuro is known as the “Singing Barber of Willimantic”.Years ago I heard of him from Harold Hanka, prize-winning photographer at the Chronicle (now at the New London Day). Harold went to Hannu for haircuts, and always looked trim and stylish.This morning, while having breakfast with my daughter at Nita's restaurant, fellow customer Hannu came over and said hello to her, and she introduced</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116506427146875107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116506427146875107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116506427146875107' title='Interesting Willimantic'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-116502839328041866</id><published>2006-12-01T21:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T21:59:53.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mark Story Photography | B&amp;W Portraits | Living in Three Centuries</title><summary type='text'>Mark Story Photography | B&amp;W Portraits | Living in Three CenturiesBeautiful photographs of old people with so many wrinkles there is barely room for their eyes; many of their lower noses seem detached and sagging. If they are laughing, you can't tell.But the notes accompanying these remarkable 18 portraits say most of the supercentarians in the world enjoy life and do not get stressed out when </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116502839328041866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116502839328041866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116502839328041866' title='Mark Story Photography | B&amp;W Portraits | Living in Three Centuries'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-116498665026204128</id><published>2006-12-01T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T10:24:10.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m not a look-a-like | haha.nu - a lifestyle blogzine</title><summary type='text'>I’m not a look-a-like | haha.nu - a lifestyle blogzine: "A collection of photographic portraits of North American and European look-alikes."Most are not like identical twins, but these non-related pairs all bear a strong resemblance to one another. Casual acquaintances could eaily mistake one for the other when seen separately.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116498665026204128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/116498665026204128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116498665026204128' title='I’m not a look-a-like | haha.nu - a lifestyle blogzine'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-115932187450509618</id><published>2006-09-26T21:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T21:51:14.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Best writing advice</title><summary type='text'>Delancey Place quotes playwright Arthur Laurents: "I was completely unprepared when he told me I had talent. Just that, in those words: I had talent. No one had ever said that before and he was definite. I wanted to run out of the room before he continued because I knew there had to be a caveat. As indeed there was. [He said] my problem was that I was too facile. Too often, I made transitions in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/115932187450509618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/115932187450509618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115932187450509618' title='Best writing advice'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114773609809051426</id><published>2006-05-15T19:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T19:34:58.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>JesusPets</title><summary type='text'>The End Is *Really* Really Near This Time: "Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, wars, tsunamis, you name it.If you're a Christian, you've got a big problem on your hands. After you're swept away to walk the streets of gold with Jesus, red hot lava is going to pour from Mt. St. Helens and right over your dog, leaving his burned body encased for millennia until discovered by godless alien </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114773609809051426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114773609809051426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114773609809051426' title='JesusPets'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114764138902703152</id><published>2006-05-14T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T17:16:29.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Penciils, intricately carved! Amazing</title><summary type='text'>Go to the Pencil Carving site and see more, and upclose shots.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114764138902703152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114764138902703152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114764138902703152' title='Penciils, intricately carved! Amazing'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114731603538226080</id><published>2006-05-10T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T22:53:55.396-04:00</updated><title type='text'>animal morphs</title><summary type='text'>This photoshopper providesexamples of what the art can be. He ably morphs animal and bird (and a few people) heads and bodies together to create something new.It is done quite skillfully.See samples at Tatty World.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114731603538226080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114731603538226080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114731603538226080' title='animal morphs'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114691921825018654</id><published>2006-05-06T08:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T08:40:18.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'>'Siddhartha' by Hermann Hesse</title><summary type='text'>A searchable online version at The Literature NetworkIn order to find meaning in life, he discarded his promising future for the life of a wandering ascetic. Still, true happiness evaded him. Then a life of pleasure and titillation merely eroded away his spiritual gains until he was just like all the other 'child people,' dragged around by his desires. Like Hermann Hesse's other creations of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691921825018654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691921825018654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114691921825018654' title='&apos;Siddhartha&apos; by Hermann Hesse'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114691897122667845</id><published>2006-05-06T08:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T08:36:11.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>buddhalover's reviews</title><summary type='text'>I never read this  before... But this is the way to compassion for all beings, even the violent and cruel.buddhalover's reviews: "Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. -Rilke"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691897122667845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691897122667845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114691897122667845' title='buddhalover&apos;s reviews'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114691809601751651</id><published>2006-05-06T08:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T08:23:52.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Conceptual photography</title><summary type='text'>Misha GordinA big rock lays on the southern border of the land I live.I like to visit him on a sunny winter days and walk around in a circle, absorbing his silent energy.I like to stand on top of him with my eyes shot toward the bright sun.I like to fill my chest with a crisp air and reach towards the sky.I feel secluded, but not alone. It's where I belong.The lonely owl is watching me from his </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691809601751651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114691809601751651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114691809601751651' title='Conceptual photography'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114669105423821290</id><published>2006-05-03T17:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T17:17:34.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jazz Quotes</title><summary type='text'>Jazz Quotes: "Jazz washes away the dust of every day life.~ Art Blakey"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114669105423821290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114669105423821290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114669105423821290' title='Jazz Quotes'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114553390259731179</id><published>2006-04-20T07:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T07:51:42.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>'Get the name of the dog'</title><summary type='text'>It's good advice to write with concrete details - the story depends on them. Roy Peter Clark, who gives the writing advice referred to in the previous post, gives an example:When Kelley Benham wrote the story of the ferocious rooster that attacked a toddler, she not only got the name of the rooster, Rockadoodle Two, but also the names of his parents, Rockadoodle and one-legged Henny Penny. (I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114553390259731179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114553390259731179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114553390259731179' title='&apos;Get the name of the dog&apos;'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114553334335732726</id><published>2006-04-20T07:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T07:42:23.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tips to strong writing</title><summary type='text'>Helpful writing tips   1.  Writing Tool #1: Branch to the Right   2. Writing Tool #2: Use Strong Verbs   3. Writing Tool #3: Beware of Adverbs   4. Writing Tool #4: Period As a Stop Sign   5. Writing Tool #5: Observe Word Territory   6. Writing Tool #6: Play with Words   7. Writing Tool #7: Dig for the Concrete and Specific   8. Writing Tool #8: Seek Original Images   9. Writing Tool #9: Prefer </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114553334335732726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114553334335732726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114553334335732726' title='Tips to strong writing'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114532072896465263</id><published>2006-04-17T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T20:38:48.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Federal Reserve origami</title><summary type='text'>I came across an interesting site today that shows with text and photos, how to create assorted small objects using folding paper money.My best original designs include spiders, eyeglasses, sailboats, and framed portraits. I got started in high school when I learned how to make a ring out of a dollar bill. I generally make these items to leave as tips. To see what it looks like and how to do it, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114532072896465263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114532072896465263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114532072896465263' title='Federal Reserve origami'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114511179884095990</id><published>2006-04-15T10:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-15T10:36:38.853-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Harlem jazz musicians... 1958</title><summary type='text'>tag:  MusicAll the music in Harlem</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114511179884095990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114511179884095990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114511179884095990' title='Harlem jazz musicians... 1958'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114389996677751797</id><published>2006-04-01T08:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T08:59:26.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today...</title><summary type='text'>1. I share a birthdate with composer Sergei Rachmaninoff, who incidentally died the year I was born.2. Yesterday jazz saxman Jackie McLean of Hartford, CT died.One of the brightest in Blue Note's sea of saxophone stars, Jackie McLean can make an alto saxophone moan, scream and swing without ever losing the raw power and emotion that makes his music so vital. McLean played with Sonny Rollins, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114389996677751797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114389996677751797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114389996677751797' title='Today...'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-114281743024409333</id><published>2006-03-19T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T20:17:10.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Common Life into ART</title><summary type='text'>I love the metal tag series on this blog, Common Life into ART</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114281743024409333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/114281743024409333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114281743024409333' title='Common Life into ART'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-113180702166752614</id><published>2005-11-12T09:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T09:50:23.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Conning Tower: The Second One</title><summary type='text'>The Conning Tower: The Second One: "Since this blog was inspired by Franklin Pierce Adams (hereinafter “FPA”), I thought a quick story might be appropriate.At a party one night, Adams found himself in the host’s study with Alexander Woolcott. Woolcott, spotting one his own books on the shelf, carefully retrieved it and flipped to the printing information. “Ah,” he sighed, “what is so rare as a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/113180702166752614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/113180702166752614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113180702166752614' title='The Conning Tower: The Second One'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-113162744289718195</id><published>2005-11-10T07:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T07:57:22.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Give modestly, receive lavishly</title><summary type='text'>This little nugget of wisdom is from author John Steinbeck. He was reminiscing about his deceased friend Ed Ricketts, a biologist, who received gifts of any sort with such pleasure that it warmed the heart of the giver: Perhaps the most overrated virtue in our list of shoddy virtues is that of giving. Giving builds up the ego of the giver, makes him superior and higher and larger than the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/113162744289718195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/113162744289718195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113162744289718195' title='Give modestly, receive lavishly'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112708877255251158</id><published>2005-09-18T20:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T20:13:56.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dalai Lama: Sadness at events just brings more  suffering</title><summary type='text'>His holiness, theDalai Lama urged victims of the Sept. 11 World Trade Center attacks and Hurricane Katrina to turn their tragedies into something that makes them stronger.'Your sadness, your anger will not solve the problem,' the 70-year old monk said. 'More sadness, more frustration only brings more suffering for yourself.'"His holiness spoke in idaho last week, at an event arranged by financial</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112708877255251158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112708877255251158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112708877255251158' title='Dalai Lama: Sadness at events just brings more  suffering'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112708799418174364</id><published>2005-09-18T19:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T19:59:54.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dalai Lama</title><summary type='text'>The Dalai Lama's favorite prayer:For as long as space enduresAnd for as long as living beings remain,Until then may I too abideTo dispel the misery of the world.--from writings of the renowned eighth century Buddhist saint Shantideva</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112708799418174364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112708799418174364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112708799418174364' title='The Dalai Lama'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112660820908181417</id><published>2005-09-13T06:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T06:43:29.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing | J-Log Journalism Blog</title><summary type='text'>Writing | J-Log Journalism Blog: "The art and craft of writing - from objective newspaper pieces to literary stabs at capturing life, not quite a novel, not quite a feature. The written word in general."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112660820908181417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112660820908181417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112660820908181417' title='Writing | J-Log Journalism Blog'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112631096853326597</id><published>2005-09-09T20:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T20:13:43.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life</title><summary type='text'>Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life: ... The train moved. You know how trains begin to move, with a tug, as though trying to convince themselves they can do it.         I was wiping my aunt's lipstick from my cheek and looking out. When the train moved, Moysha moved with it, dragging his right foot. Another pull of the train, another tug of the foot. They were marching West, Moysha </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112631096853326597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112631096853326597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112631096853326597' title='Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112243354698147855</id><published>2005-07-26T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T23:05:47.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Love quotes from all over</title><summary type='text'>Seduce my mind and you can have my body,Find my soul and I'm yours forever. -Anon.Your voice makes me tremble inside; your smile is an invitation for my imagination to go wild. -Anon.Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jigand then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.~~ Matt GroeningBy the time you swear you're his,Shivering and sighing,And he vows his passion isInfinite, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112243354698147855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112243354698147855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112243354698147855' title='Love quotes from all over'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-112242945214336437</id><published>2005-07-26T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T21:57:32.150-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Music by Errol Garner, words by Johnny Burke</title><summary type='text'>Love Songs: Misty  : Walk my wayAnd a thousand violins begin to playOr it might be the sound of your helloThat music I hearI get misty the moment you're near</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112242945214336437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/112242945214336437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112242945214336437' title='Music by Errol Garner, words by Johnny Burke'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-109373789528584576</id><published>2004-08-28T19:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-08-28T20:04:55.286-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beat poets</title><summary type='text'>This is Denise Levertov:Ah, Grief, I should not treat youlike a homeless dogwho comes to the back doorfor a crust, for a meatless bone.I should trust you.I should coax youinto the house and give youyour own corner,a worn mat to lie on,your own water dish.You think I don't know you've been livingunder my porch.You long for your real place to be readiedbefore winter comes. You need</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/109373789528584576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/109373789528584576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109373789528584576' title='Beat poets'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-109362936876164075</id><published>2004-08-27T13:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-08-27T14:00:41.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad sentence! bad! bad!</title><summary type='text'>I'm gonna swat the writer of this sentence with a rolled up newspaper:"When the 1965 Act eliminated literacy tests, poll taxes and gave the federal government added tools to punish anti-voting terrorists and protect access to the franchise, the enemies of democracy turned to other means." -- Julian Bond, www.tompaine.comI know everyone does it, but in a list of three things set off with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/109362936876164075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/109362936876164075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109362936876164075' title='Bad sentence! bad! bad!'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-107987234957908509</id><published>2004-03-21T07:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-21T07:42:06.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chiasmus</title><summary type='text'>Chiasmus: A rhetorical inversion of the second of two parallel structures, as in Each throat/Was parched, and glazed each eye (Samuel Taylor Coleridge).This rhetorical device is often used as the basis of riddles that rely on puns. Consider, for example these two attributed to Richard Lederer:What is the difference between a pursued deer and a midget witch?	One is a hunted stag, the other a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107987234957908509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107987234957908509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107987234957908509' title='Chiasmus'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-107646886306673012</id><published>2004-02-10T22:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-10T22:09:30.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing | J-Log Online</title><summary type='text'>Writing | J-Log Online</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107646886306673012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107646886306673012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107646886306673012' title='Writing | J-Log Online'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-107428460539057394</id><published>2004-01-16T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T15:24:47.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good reads</title><summary type='text'>Laurie who writes the cocokat in slumberland blog is a very good writer. She asked for reading recomendations for her birthday, and I suggested James Lee Burke's Dave Robichaux series and anything by Sherman Alexie. I forgot to mention Anne LaMott, so I have to go back there and add that one.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107428460539057394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107428460539057394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107428460539057394' title='Good reads'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-107244662211578504</id><published>2003-12-26T08:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-26T08:51:22.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inner feelings</title><summary type='text'>catching the lightuntil I turn pink and transparentI will eat this lovely magenta vegetablehow could I resist such a flamboyantpickled and extroverted rootthat turns scarlet everything it touches?but me, I am just a plain old turnipsomeone pulled from the groundtrying to shake off this clumpy fortress of dirtthat clings on, leftover from some bygone eraand I've only just lately noticed</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107244662211578504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/107244662211578504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107244662211578504' title='Inner feelings'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106924509213879624</id><published>2003-11-19T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T07:31:56.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>frownies</title><summary type='text'>FrowniesGreat stuff :-((</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106924509213879624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106924509213879624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106924509213879624' title='frownies'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106924464975848831</id><published>2003-11-19T07:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T07:24:34.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>washingtonpost.com: The Style Invitational</title><summary type='text'>washingtonpost.com: The Style Invitational</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106924464975848831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106924464975848831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106924464975848831' title='washingtonpost.com: The Style Invitational'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106869475372872539</id><published>2003-11-12T22:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T22:39:10.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>spellingmistakescostlives.com / archive</title><summary type='text'>spellingmistakescostlives.com / archiveA novel site</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106869475372872539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106869475372872539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106869475372872539' title='spellingmistakescostlives.com / archive'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106711242439776538</id><published>2003-10-25T16:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-25T16:07:04.243-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Did he ever return, no he never returned...</title><summary type='text'>James Huggins has clipped to his fridge door an article about 'Alfred' the man who has lived in the Charles DeGaulle Airport for over a decade, with no place to go. Alfred is the nickname he was given by airport staff, to whom he has become a normal part of the airport scene; his real name is Merhan Karimi Nasseri and he was born in a part if Iran that used to be under British control, to an </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106711242439776538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106711242439776538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106711242439776538' title='Did he ever return, no he never returned...'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106630130315913514</id><published>2003-10-16T06:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-16T14:25:03.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Correction and amplification</title><summary type='text'>My friend in the second smallest independent state in the world writes to correct my description of him as a fan of jazz:I am not a jazz-fan. Or Jazz Fan. I was brought up with it. It is the language that I speak and understand. I listen to it as little as possible. Why? Because nobody understands nor speaks that language any more. I must own up: Among other Items, my Root Kulture is Victor </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106630130315913514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106630130315913514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106630130315913514' title='Correction and amplification'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106621137922903295</id><published>2003-10-15T05:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-16T17:31:12.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More jazz thoughts (visitor)</title><summary type='text'>This in from a huge jazz fan at Voxnooz , in the second-smallest independent state in the world:PamPam, I am at a loss to know why I should address these musical-stuff thoughts to You. I seem unable to voice them for myself or at my own places.  Curious.  However, this is the continuing Coltrane Story. Uh-huh. Perhaps I prefer to give this stuff to another person, whom I trust, to Edit.1 </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106621137922903295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106621137922903295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106621137922903295' title='More jazz thoughts (visitor)'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106595651406957380</id><published>2003-10-12T07:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-12T07:27:06.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing around someone</title><summary type='text'>I saw an example of writing around someone in the New York Times this morning.  Times Magazine  Entertainment editor (or entertaining editor, as a wag at the magazine puts it) William Norwich writes around a big hole in his life:When love goes out the door, sometimes the furniture goes with it.Or so it came to pass this spring. In a heaving rain, a moving van pulled up to the front door of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106595651406957380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106595651406957380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106595651406957380' title='Writing around someone'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106586757800760096</id><published>2003-10-11T06:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-11T06:21:21.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Satchmo</title><summary type='text'>While we're on the subject of jazz (see previous entry) Louis  Armstrong's house in NY City has been renovated and is opening to the public next Wednesday (10-15-03)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106586757800760096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106586757800760096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106586757800760096' title='Satchmo'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106586723247423656</id><published>2003-10-11T06:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-11T06:13:52.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And all that jazz</title><summary type='text'>At work recently, I mentioned an interest in John Coltrane to my boss, and two days later he produced a CD case filled with an assortment of Jazz CDs and told me to take it home. So over the next few weeks, I have to listen and take notes.Meanwhile, a good source on music is the BBC</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106586723247423656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106586723247423656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106586723247423656' title='And all that jazz'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106475359622775491</id><published>2003-09-28T08:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-28T08:53:37.406-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a hat trick!</title><summary type='text'>Are you familiar with the phrase 'It's a hat trick'? It refers to amazing successes. As the Word Detective explains, 'hat trick' :... comes from the game of cricket, which is an English game resembling a sort of cross between baseball and croquet. Or something. In any case, 'hat trick' dates back to the late 1800's, and is, as the Oxford English Dictionary explains it: 'The feat of a bowler who </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106475359622775491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106475359622775491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106475359622775491' title='It&apos;s a hat trick!'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106388017575487711</id><published>2003-09-18T06:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-18T06:17:53.353-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who killed Jesus? Who cares?</title><summary type='text'>All the Christians who are mad at Jewish people 'because they killed Jesus' ought to ask themselves if they would prefer that Jesus had not been killed.::blink::No crucifixion, no Santa Claus. There's an interesting article at Slate ejournal that discusses where the allegation of Jesus killers came from and why, based on the controversy stirred up by a new Mel Gibson movie on the Crucifixion.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106388017575487711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106388017575487711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106388017575487711' title='Who killed Jesus? Who cares?'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106358553001693347</id><published>2003-09-14T20:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-14T20:25:30.103-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bike Tour</title><summary type='text'>It's really time for an overhaul of this blog. The appearance is getting kind of old, and I am really quite tired of looking at that 'ad' banner which half the time advertises nothing but 'get rid of this ad.'  I meant to do it this weekend, but somehow the press of events took over. Such as going to the CT AIDS bike tour reception. The riders dismounted at Elizabeth Park in Hartford (or West </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106358553001693347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106358553001693347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106358553001693347' title='Bike Tour'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106345630344702487</id><published>2003-09-13T08:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-13T08:31:58.453-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is justice real?</title><summary type='text'>Is the idea of justice merely a construct developed by oppressors to control the oppressed? Jurgen Habermas says a resounding No. For a goo overview of the life and views of this well rounded philosopher and social theorist see this archived Mitchell Stevens article in the Los Angeles Times Magazine, 10-23-94</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106345630344702487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106345630344702487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106345630344702487' title='Is justice real?'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106341271119847305</id><published>2003-09-12T20:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-12T20:46:53.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Added comments section</title><summary type='text'>Ok, listen up everybody! We have added "Squawkbox.tv" comment system . Please feel free to add any thought you have on this or any previous post. And thanks! </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106341271119847305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106341271119847305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106341271119847305' title='Added comments section'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106310314682375679</id><published>2003-09-09T06:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T06:25:46.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'>perspective</title><summary type='text'>I read this early today on Friendster:...when you're young you've got time. You got nothing but time... throw away a couple of years here, a couple of years there - doesn't matter... y'know the older you get, you say, 'jesus, how much I got? I got 35 summers left.' think about it - 35 summers. It was a comment by Motorcycle Boy on singer-actor Tom WaitsOnce in a while you read something that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106310314682375679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106310314682375679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106310314682375679' title='perspective'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106301197817894011</id><published>2003-09-08T05:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-08T05:07:39.753-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All bad reviews are unkind</title><summary type='text'>Lately there has been a plea afoot for gentler book reviews. But is there any way to be kind  to an author other than by showering his book with (deserved) praise? Clive James, writing in the NY Times ('The Good of a Bad Review',9-7-03) , says there is a place for the cutting review and that the pain is deliberate.When you say a man writes badly, you are trying to hurt him. When you say it in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106301197817894011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106301197817894011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106301197817894011' title='All bad reviews are unkind'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106120380196497443</id><published>2003-08-18T06:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-18T06:50:01.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo ops</title><summary type='text'>Time is money, they say, but time is also motion and motion is art -- now.Eadweard Muybridge,  a photogorapher who did motion studies in the 1870s that led to development of motion pictures and influenced many painters, came to my attention in a review in the Times of the new book Einstein's Clocks, Poincare's Maps</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106120380196497443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106120380196497443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106120380196497443' title='Photo ops'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-106113666204438004</id><published>2003-08-17T12:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T12:11:02.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming about</title><summary type='text'>I read about a sailing lesson  on  Diane Castaldi's blog.She describes learning the lingo and ettiquette, such as asking passengers Ready to come about? before turning. In a way that seems superficial, to learn the terminology before learning what to do and how to do it. But if you can't talk about it -- why, then you can't talk about it. So it does make sense to learn at least some of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106113666204438004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/106113666204438004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106113666204438004' title='Coming about'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-105843679257835723</id><published>2003-07-17T06:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-17T06:13:12.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surf on...</title><summary type='text'>Interesting /useful sites:Do-it-yourself20 Questions game (experiment in artificial intelligence)Time Magazine list of sites</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105843679257835723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105843679257835723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105843679257835723' title='Surf on...'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-105651068311166662</id><published>2003-06-24T23:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-24T23:11:23.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Art scroll</title><summary type='text'>Belgian  Anick Le Cerf has provided the equivalent of a blog inhorizontal format that makes it seem very unusual. Take a look, it includes her resume, portfolio and regular remarks: popupgirl.com</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105651068311166662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105651068311166662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105651068311166662' title='Art scroll'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-105650989206531668</id><published>2003-06-24T22:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-24T23:12:31.810-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moveable Art</title><summary type='text'>This space is usually about writing, but today I want to bring to your attention an art website that is fascinating: Dario Picciau's   Visual experience</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105650989206531668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105650989206531668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105650989206531668' title='Moveable Art'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-105563926954952607</id><published>2003-06-14T21:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-14T22:19:36.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain</title><summary type='text'>Early yesterday morning when I went out the air was filled with water. At first I thought it was raining, then I understood that the air was superating like a raw wound. The greenery was lush -- almost too lush, in a sinister way. The tick-laden grass leaned in toward me as I walked on the sluggish ground. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105563926954952607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/105563926954952607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105563926954952607' title='Rain'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200406504</id><published>2003-06-10T06:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-10T06:52:44.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spanish art</title><summary type='text'>Yesterday I happened upon the web pages of Spanish artist Mario Rodriguez Ruiz. Most ofthe site is in Spanish, which I hardly read at all. But I was taken by his images of angels, especially one of a sullen young angel. These angels inhabit a gritty world where the lamb of god is skinned (thus not cute and cudly); and the angels look neither majestic nor beatific, but angry or confused. In the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200406504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200406504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#200406504' title='Spanish art'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200388225</id><published>2003-06-05T08:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-05T08:27:45.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>When in doubt, Pun(t)</title><summary type='text'>The ornithologist invited pals to a bird-watching party at the lake. He had invitations printed. The printer inadvertently dropped an 'r.' The invitations said "Egrets Only."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200388225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200388225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#200388225' title='When in doubt, Pun(t)'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200388207</id><published>2003-06-05T08:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-05T08:24:31.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Sweet It Is</title><summary type='text'>I read this story recently online: Returning from a trip to visit my grandmother in Canada, I was stopped by a state trooper in New York for exceeding the speed limit. Grateful to have received a warning instead of a ticket, I gave him a small bag of my grandmother's delicious chocolate chip cookies and  proceeded on my way. Later, I was stopped by another trooper. "What have I done?" I asked</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200388207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200388207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#200388207' title='How Sweet It Is'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200214578</id><published>2003-04-29T03:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-29T03:55:43.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the write stiff</title><summary type='text'>...So Grammar  loses her former dash and gradually weakens. She eventually elipsis into a comma and dies.(with thanks to Anonymous Anomalies for the thought)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200214578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200214578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200214578' title='the write stiff'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200204927</id><published>2003-04-26T23:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-27T00:06:43.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the Grecian Bend</title><summary type='text'>Have you heard of the Grecian Bend? I had no idea what it meant when I came across that phrase in this Irish tune that an old friend used to sing:She was just the sort of creature boys, that Nature did intendTo walk right through the world my boys, without the Grecian bendNor did she wear a chignon I'd have you all to knowAnd I met her in the garden where the praties grow --Johnny PattersonI </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200204927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200204927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200204927' title='the Grecian Bend'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200197936</id><published>2003-04-25T07:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-29T03:42:23.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday</title><summary type='text'>My Aunt Elizabeth's birthday is tomorrow. If she were still alive, she'd be 100.I thought her birthday was the 25th and that she was born in 1902. Not according to the SSDI (Social Security Death Index). This is the record they have for her:RICKEY, ELIZABETH ssn: 084-38-1587; born: NY  26 Apr 1903;  died: 30 Mar 1995,  Schenectady, New York 12305 </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200197936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200197936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200197936' title='Happy Birthday'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200197809</id><published>2003-04-25T06:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-25T06:28:43.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>bird watching</title><summary type='text'>My friend L told me of a second storey apartment  she visits here in Willimantic, where there is a lofty porch that provides a good view of the local arboreal wildlife. They sit over coffee and watch squirrels eating nuts and carrying stuff back to the squirr-babies that are nestled within the eaves of the building. They see the crows that came all winter for bits of hotdog and other scraps. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200197809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200197809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200197809' title='bird watching'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200159276</id><published>2003-04-16T22:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-16T22:53:16.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trochee trips, slow spondee stalks</title><summary type='text'>I was looking for a web site that has a chart showing various poetic measures. I remembered vaguely the poem alluded to above, but could not remember its detailsl. Happy was I upon coming across it at a Rice University site! By Samuel Taylor Coleridge:Trochee trips from long to short;From long to long in solemn sortSlow Spondee stalks, strong foot!, yet ill ableEver to come up with Dactyl's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200159276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200159276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200159276' title='Trochee trips, slow spondee stalks'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200119563</id><published>2003-04-09T06:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-09T06:48:15.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Gonne</title><summary type='text'>Oh, the women I never heard of before! I must take a women's history and literature course, to acquaint myself with the names I never learned.Reading about Wiliam B. Yeats this morning, I came across the name of  Maud Gonne, an Irish patriot. Yeats was inspired by her, both politically and amorously. She refused his offer of marriage and he was left with writing poems -- good for us and too bad</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200119563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200119563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200119563' title='All &lt;a href=&quot;http://home.earthlink.net/~ckau/irish/Purser2.html&quot;&gt;Gonne&lt;/a&gt;'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-200104131</id><published>2003-04-06T07:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-06T07:54:09.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>W.H. Auden</title><summary type='text'>W. H. Auden tops the list of "American poets" on a blog I was looking at this morning. I thought Auden was British, since my mother, who grew up in Scotland, told me that her older brother George was friends with Auden and used to invite him to their house. I looked up Auden, and see that he was born in Yorkshire, England in 1907 the same year as as my uncle. (My uncle was American along with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200104131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/200104131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#200104131' title='W.H. Auden'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-90387933</id><published>2003-02-28T07:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-28T07:00:56.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>good blog</title><summary type='text'>Freely associating since 1492Matty Steuninga. Because toast is usually the answer, unless you've asked the wrong question.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90387933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90387933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_02_01_archive.html#90387933' title='good blog'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-90222956</id><published>2003-01-23T06:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-08T21:23:27.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><summary type='text'>Here it is half way through January and the hare is resting comfortably beneath a snowdrift, as the hounds doze by the fire (metaphorically; we do not actually have a fire here -- not to mention hares and hounds).Truth be told, I have not been doing any web work lately, since before Christmas. It's time to get back to it!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90222956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90222956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#90222956' title='Update'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-90064929</id><published>2002-12-17T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-12-17T20:26:14.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Games</title><summary type='text'>Ok, I've been wasting my time. Games... want to try some out?Here's a few I've enjoyed. Java games you can begin online, and then leave the browser open when you sign off- you can still play. Just don't close the browser.Hare &amp; HoundsTactix  take turns with the computerThe mega tree riddleAnagramsJava games  - assortment that including reversi, five-field kono, othersCollapse! knock out a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90064929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/90064929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#90064929' title='Games'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85710205</id><published>2002-11-24T08:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-11-24T08:07:10.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Al Gore rhythm ;-)</title><summary type='text'>The word algorithm comes to us from the Arabic name of a ninth century Persian mathematician and textbook author, via Old French and Medieval Latin: Muhammad ibn-Musa al-Khwarizmi Read all about it at Word of the Day</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85710205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85710205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85710205' title='Al Gore rhythm ;-)'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85695484</id><published>2002-11-20T06:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-11-24T08:12:38.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting inside the head of an autisitc boy</title><summary type='text'>A Boy, a Mother and a Rare Map of Autism's World "I can concentrate either at what I am seeing or what I am hearing or what I am smelling," he wrote, not long after he began meeting neurologists. "It felt nothing unnatural to me until I realized that others could simultaneously see and hear and smell." NY Times 11-20-02  A woman from India had  rare insight into how to teach her autistic child,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85695484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85695484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85695484' title='Getting inside the head of an autisitc boy'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85628219</id><published>2002-11-01T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-11-01T10:05:10.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no writing for a while!</title><summary type='text'>I've had other things on my mind, sorry .....</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85628219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85628219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85628219' title='no writing for a while!'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85449630</id><published>2002-09-14T07:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-14T07:59:29.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'> Maudie reports the bloody shirt</title><summary type='text'>We left Maudie in July having tripped upon a stone, herself down and her washing tumbled on the grass where she'd spilled it. Young Contable Wicket was hopping off his cycle and giving her a hand up. After helping her right herself, he gave her a slight pat on the arm and a winning  smile, and she said to herself, "I shall marry that one." Constable, says Maudie, There's something I want to ask</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85449630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85449630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#85449630' title=' Maudie reports the bloody shirt'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85151661</id><published>2002-06-07T14:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-07T14:51:49.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'>blanking..........................................</title><summary type='text'> Still here, just not writing lately</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85151661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85151661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_06_01_archive.html#85151661' title='blanking..........................................'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-385107036</id><published>2002-05-21T17:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-21T17:16:21.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>burn (poem by jbradley)</title><summary type='text'>I read a powerful poem this afternoon on the web site of jbradley. Here's a bit to whet your interest......our teacher Mrs. Mack saidif we were good,she would let us go outsideand watch the shuttletakeoff.10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1we rushed outsideas the Challenger climbed the sky....You can sort of see where that's leading, if you remember the Challenger space flight in</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/385107036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/385107036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_05_01_archive.html#385107036' title='&lt;i&gt;burn&lt;/i&gt; (poem by jbradley)'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85069774</id><published>2002-05-08T07:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-08T07:06:06.970-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stories about cities</title><summary type='text'>I ran across the City Stories Project this morning. These are a collection of web sites dedicated to telling true stories of the city where the tellers live. It's a massive world-wide collaboration. I read about it at Nervous.org a site that provides a forum for various collaborative projects -- a grown-up version of "finish this story." There you will see journals mailed around to folks on a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85069774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85069774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_05_01_archive.html#85069774' title='Stories about cities'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85041759</id><published>2002-04-28T06:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-28T07:42:32.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Granny</title><summary type='text'>Granny, they said, could talk to crows. She was very, very old when I knew her, years ago in the '50s. Now five decades later, I want to write some of my memories before they slip away into the oblivion of my own old age. She was born nearly 130 years ago.She always wore a dress. Pants on girls were a new thing in the 1950s and not tolerated by most older persons. My fourth grade teacher sent </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85041759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85041759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#85041759' title='Granny'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85041672</id><published>2002-04-28T04:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-28T06:09:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo Yo Ma, world class cellist</title><summary type='text'> I saw a picture of  Yo Yo Ma   in the NY Times today that entranced me. Using the theme of the ancient Silk Road, the intercultural internet of ancient times, he has a travelling concert featuring artists from all over Asia.I'd like to see/hear this. As described by the Times, this work (or works) carries themes that relate to musical puns on the different meanings of "Ma" in Mandarin, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85041672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85041672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#85041672' title='Yo Yo Ma, world class cellist'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-85028635</id><published>2002-04-23T06:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-23T06:51:07.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Satire</title><summary type='text'>I saw at two satiric drawings sites this morning. One was an exhibit of Soviet posters from the '60s through the '80s. They generally depict a crushing burequcracy.The other is a cartoon series by New Yorker David Rees, 29, called get your war on.. These depict office workers (looks like clip art from the category "office workers") who might get behind the war effort, but try as they might, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85028635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/85028635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#85028635' title='Satire'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-385019152</id><published>2002-04-19T06:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-19T20:52:49.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Left side, right side </title><summary type='text'>I read about work being done with 'autistic savants' in Discover Magazine (February 2002). An  autistic child, who did not speak and seemed uninterested in his parents or other people, suddenly at age 3 began drawing beautifully detailed horses. Other autistic children can do amazing feats of mathematics or have a fascination with technology.Exploration of the unusual abilities autistic children</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/385019152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/385019152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#385019152' title='Left side, right side '/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75158704</id><published>2002-04-08T07:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-08T07:08:35.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>test</title><summary type='text'>this is a test post</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75158704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75158704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#75158704' title='test'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75158699</id><published>2002-04-08T07:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-08T07:05:59.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April going on.... </title><summary type='text'>I have nothing to write this morning... caught up in the technical side of things</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75158699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75158699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#75158699' title='April going on.... '/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75037403</id><published>2002-03-26T05:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-26T05:13:17.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>kind of writing I do</title><summary type='text'>I am definitely not primarily a fiction writer. Very likely that shows :-)  Most of my writing is discursive in nature, such as you see at the alternate patriot, a progressive political blog. Sometimes I write on moral questions as well; for example, see responsible for the ocean? which, despite its title, is not an environmental discussion, but rather an essay on moral responsibility. One </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75037403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75037403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#75037403' title='kind of writing I do'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75019542</id><published>2002-03-18T06:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-18T06:08:49.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Word play</title><summary type='text'>Another reason to stop here is to avoid the attention of the chalky-fingered grammarians who are liable to get all strunk and feather-dustered about the way I like to play with words. I've had a really good day and I'd hate to have to spoil it by telling someone their pedanticoat is showing.-Journal of a writing man" to get all strunk and feather-dustered..." The first part is clearly a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75019542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75019542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#75019542' title='Word play'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75003626</id><published>2002-03-10T12:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-10T12:19:36.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How we confuse symbols and things</title><summary type='text'>* symbols The reason religion seems so appropriate a repository of dreams compared to, for example, a used car lot, is only because religions have been practicing longer. The crude methods of the used car salesman, the appearance of chrome and freshly washed metal icons, flags, balloons, cannot compare with the sophisticated, "uptown" presentation of a modern church. In a Western church you see </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75003626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75003626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#75003626' title='How we confuse symbols and things'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-75001628</id><published>2002-03-08T17:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-09T07:59:30.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Louisa Drumond thinks again about Cheryl, days after the woman had made a pleasant remark as she walked past the house. Cheryl had a warmth that Louisa liked, a desire to please that... well, that pleased her. It was not often that people showed any consideration for  Louisa. Yes, Cheryl seemed very considerate.She had seen her walking past the house once or twice before -- Cheryl had not been</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75001628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/75001628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#75001628' title=''/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10503750</id><published>2002-03-07T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T16:44:55.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What my name means to kabalists</title><summary type='text'>Pamela Your first name of Pamela has made you happiest when you are expressing in some creative, artistic way, and not conforming to strict routine. In a large group of comparative strangers, you are quiet and rather shy, unable to express yourself, not really wanting to become involved in conversation. On the other hand, among friends with whom you feel at ease, you are expressive, witty, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10503750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10503750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10503750' title='What my name means to kabalists'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10502810</id><published>2002-03-07T16:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T16:17:09.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>: : s c o t t i c u s : :</title><summary type='text'>: : s c o t t i c u s : : ... this site (and all my others) exsist because i am constanly bored. i sell ice cream and go to school from time to time. other than that, i try to amuse myself in anyway i can...How can anyone with half a brain be "constantly bored?" This author has an attractive, although difficult to read blog (is it the font or the fact that its light on dark?) Back to he bored </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10502810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10502810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10502810' title=': : s c o t t i c u s : :'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10403517</id><published>2002-03-05T07:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-05T07:07:53.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Louisa Drummond thinks about Cheryl Dannothy </title><summary type='text'>[Go back to how it was for the introduction of these characters]Louisa, usually inside herself and not very observant, ruminated on Cheryl after the woman left her porch and walked on down the street:Cheryl is tall - about 5' 9" - and slender, no, rangy in build.  Her hair is shoulder length and shiny, medium brown and smells of shampoo. A hint of cigarette smoke lingers in the old gray </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10403517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10403517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10403517' title='Louisa Drummond thinks about Cheryl Dannothy '/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10386316</id><published>2002-03-04T20:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-04T20:02:26.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not literature, but very interesting</title><summary type='text'>number popularity tells us something about ourselves. That's what these fellas claim. There's a pattern to our number preferences. Probably has something to do with bilateral symmetry. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10386316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10386316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10386316' title='Not literature, but very interesting'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10297809</id><published>2002-03-02T07:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-02T07:54:51.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark and stormy write the page...</title><summary type='text'>The Never-Ending Story It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents - except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.Thus begins the Never-ending Story, and it </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10297809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10297809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10297809' title='Dark and stormy write the page...'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10297411</id><published>2002-03-02T07:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-02T07:55:55.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 'om' of poets </title><summary type='text'>Rhetorical Figures Synecdoche: understanding one thing with another; the use of a part for the whole, or the whole for the part. (A form of metonymy}"Give us this day our daily bread." Matthew 6 The list of rhetorical figures (of speech) is fascinating. Some of them I am familiar with, such as Onomatopoeia, Simile and Metaphor, Irony and a few others. New to me are Chiasmus, apostrophe (not </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10297411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10297411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_03_01_archive.html#10297411' title='The &apos;om&apos; of poets '/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10129862</id><published>2002-02-25T23:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-02-25T23:01:30.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Avoid the Bad</title><summary type='text'>If you enjoy writing, as I do, you will like reading this article at  A List Apart.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10129862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10129862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#10129862' title='How to Avoid the Bad'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10128875</id><published>2002-02-25T22:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-02T06:41:55.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Truck story</title><summary type='text'>Cheryl Dannothy went into the Dunkin Donuts at the corner of Main and Bridge streets and  placed her order with a slender  Pakistani man who was very polite. She ordered an extra large coffee with extra cream and 4 sugars. She didn't have enough money for lunch, and figured all that cream and sugar must have some nutritive value. She carried her coffee out toward the sidewalk and waited </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10128875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10128875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#10128875' title='Truck story'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10048185</id><published>2002-02-23T17:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-02T06:45:22.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How it was</title><summary type='text'>A middle aged woman sat on a porch with an orange cat in her lap. The cat was struggling to get down, but the woman held on. Cheryl Dannothy was walking by, and looked, and remarked conversationally, "That's a nice-looking cat." Cheryl had noticed that people always responded favorably to people who complimented their pets or children, and made a habit of doing so. Even though the woman had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10048185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10048185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#10048185' title='How it was'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10036996</id><published>2002-02-23T08:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-02-23T22:22:56.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How to treat the bad guys: Ethical problem</title><summary type='text'>I am trying to talk myself into something here...There are four or five  people in town I very much dislike. Over the years, I have developed three levels of dealings with such people when I pass them on the street. First, if they dislike me for some reason (such as, they are still mad about something my then-husband did in 1986) I am civil but non-committal. They get "G'morning" with a brief</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10036996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10036996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#10036996' title='How to treat the bad guys: Ethical problem'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-10013344</id><published>2002-02-22T15:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-02-22T15:24:04.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>0(zero)format Back on the farm, it wasn't uncommon for a kitten to be taken by field mice. Usually, they got the runt. They waited for the runt to die, or so we believed, and came together in a pack like mini-wolverines. We'd never heard of mice working together, but then again we'd never heard of kittens being taken, either... There's more, go there.This guy Dennis Mahoney tells storylets! </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10013344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/10013344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#10013344' title=''/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183960.post-9976381</id><published>2002-02-21T16:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-02-21T16:59:04.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No gain, no pain.....</title><summary type='text'>The tramp of jackboots still echoes in the minds of old people. How could such a horror happen in a civilized country?I fear it will happen here, too. Wealth becomes a scarece commodity and more of us will follow the shouting, posturing leader who tells us what the trouble is.The good of the country is cynically ignored in favor of corporate gain. For the rest of us, misery.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/9976381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3183960/posts/default/9976381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://121sketches.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#9976381' title='No gain, no pain.....'/><author><name>Palema</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07332820101922303018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kitix1ehJEc/Su7vdL9GEiI/AAAAAAAAACA/z8ofT31FX34/S220/fgris-headshot.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
