Heddy

[dog-eared | quiet | malicious | Heddy | Jackson | running]

A brown-haired girl sat in the library bent over a book, her glasses slipping down her nose. She sighed. She read a little, turned the page, and sighed again.
"Jackson, why do I have to do this?"
The boy across from her grinned. "OK, skip to the next dog-ear if you want."
"You are malicious, Jackson," Heddy said, and turned another page.
Jackson pulled his baseball cap visor down a little and grinned again. Heddy read quietly for several minutes as Jackson sat there, watching.
"Flowers in his navel? Yikes! What I do for friendship! Did I tell you I don't care for Lawrence?" asked Heddy.
"Yeah, but if you read 50 pages of this straight, I win $50. Please keep going!"
She turned another page, and Jackson glanced over his shoulder at two boys lolling near the water fountain observing them. One of them whispered to the other, and they laughed silently.

Heddy slouched down in her chair and stuck her long legs out in front of her. Another few pages and she straightened a bit and crossed her legs. Finally she hissed "That's fifty!" and stalked away from the libarary table, leaving the book with Jackson. Her face was bright red and she glared angrily at the boys snickering by the fountain.

Reading Gonzo--Engaged GonzoEngaged is now a partyblog. You remember party lines. You'd get on the phone, and other folks would already be there talking. If you were polite, you'd hang up and make your call later. If not, you'd join in. So too goes this blog. If you want to be added to the "Team," send me an email. As long as you're not an idiot, you can hang around and post at will.
This seems very cool. Frankly, I'm a little envious!

SiliconValley.com - Dan Gillmor's eJournal

The Wall Street Journal's Walt Mossberg is marking his 10th anniversary of writing the premier technology column in America. Many congratulations to a fine journalist and person.

Typical Mossberg remark:
Just remember: you're not a "dummy," no matter what those computer books claim. The real dummies are the people who, though technically expert, couldn't design hardware and software that's usable by normal consumers if their lives depended upon it. -- from wsj mailbox

I have to post some links here for later reference, until I can put them on the permanent list:
solablogs |
ediaries |
sola |
travelling garden

dog-eared | quiet | malicious | Heddy | Jackson | running


[I have to go for my morning walk; I will come back to this one later}

: The powerful are dedicated to the investiture of speechlessness in the powerless.
Cliff, Michelle. "Notes on Speechlessness" , quoted in 'gENDeress', a poem by Robin Tremblayin markszine

This simple statement describes the connection between the problems of race, class and gender. Ladies, don't be quiet, speak out, speak up! I want to hear you! Poor people, announce yourselves! Yes, be annoying! Demand attention. People of color, speak up even if you are afraid. Shout it out! You have the RIGHT TO BE HEARD
Not only are women, blacks and the poor trained not to speak up; they are also trained not to listen to one another. Do NOT be quiet! Speak up! And LISTEN to one another.
[moved from garden blog]

coffee hands Pearl ineffable grumpy

Pearl

"I dint order a wheat bagel," the white woman whined.

Pearl snatched back the half unwrapped bagel and handed over the other one that was wrapped and ready, a raisin with cream cheese.

"Bitch," she muttered. The bitch took her relacement bagel and drove off.

"G'mnin. C'n'hep you?" Pearl asked the slender wire affixed to the air in front of her mouth.

"I hope so, darlin," said a smooth as honey voice with a hint of Georgia behind Bridgeport in it. "I am truly in need of a good cup of coffee."

"Cream, sugar?" asked Pearl straightening up a little.

"Oh baby, you know what I like!" said the voice, laughing.

kottke.org - home of fine hypertext products
He liked Perl. She liked quilting. To impress her, he wrote some Perl programs to generate all the possible quilt blocks of a certain type, the output of which is shown here. When they got married, she made the program output into a quilt for him as a wedding gift.

Dolores

The pink-haired clerk looked at me expectantly as I carried my packages toward the counter.

She seemed out of place in the post office, as if she had been brought in for special duty and didn’t know how to dress. She had on black silk dress and a sort of work shirt over it, and on her feet flimsy high-heeled slippers. A tag on her chest pocket, printed by one of those plastic machines, announced her name as "Delores."

She smiled at me with a neutral Can-I-help-you? look. Then a phone rang behind her somewhere, and she turned away and limped back to answer it.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dolores," she answered hastily. "Who? Jessie..? Oh my god, Jessie!" she shrieked. EVerybody in line looked toward her. "How are you?...

"Good, good. Sure, I'm fine. Well, my feet are killing me; I had to come to work in my heels and didn’t have time to change...

"No, no, because we all went out after you left. We went dancing at the Club, my god we were out all night. I’m so tired! Today was my early shift; I've been here since 4:30 this morning!

"Where are you?" Dolores the pink-haired listened and her eyes widened. "You're kidding! She glanced around as if to be sure no one was listening. Everyone in line had been listening since the shriek, of course, but she turned away again, as if satisfied of her privacy, though her voice dropped a lkittle. ...

"Jessie, leaving the church like that was nothing short of brilliant! I mean, it was way better than not showing up would have been....

"Well, sure the guests were a bit uneasy. But they'll get over it. Don't worry!...

"James? Oh, well, James. He did not act crushed, no. Not distraught, no. He acted -- Well, he acted sort of relieved, if you want to know...