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Reminder to self:

Dear Me…

Do not try writing intelligent lovely post filled with poetry and quotes and links at almost three in the morning and then press the back arrow while tiddling about with the code.  WordPress doesn’t remind you that you really don’t want to navigate away from the posting page when you’re venturing backwards and not onward.

I have now joined the masses of people here that swear in English (though it was a mouthed utterance to myself in an empty room)…  sigh.

Go to bed.

There’s always tomorrow.



So this isn’t just a metablog sniff:

International Poetry Web

New Poems from China: a portfolio coordinated by Zhang Er (disclaimer: I’ve had the privilege of meeting Zhang Er and hearing her Verses on Bird read in English and Chinese– didn’t understand the Chinese, but it was interesting to hear the rhythm and flow of the original next to the translation.  I found this by the accidental grace of Google).

The Drunken Boat: Contemporary Chinese Poets


Reality is interfering with my aspirations…

I’ve got a couple of drafts going for posting, but haven’t been able to bring my head completely around any of them.

So, instead I’ve been trying to make things pretty around here. I now have a guest book of sorts where you’re free to request bloggery about whatever burning questions you may have (though I make no promises), tell me that I babble too much, wave at me, leave me presents, say you were here, etc.

I’ve changed the theme (again), and this one shows my whole photos instead of cutting them off or squishing them to fit. It has rather wussy custom header support, however, so I’m open to shifting it again. Any recommendations for something pretty with a custom header banner, widgets, and flexible width text blocks?

Oh, and here’s a link to what to do in an earthquake, just because. My first earthquake was when I was a kid in my grandfather’s living room. Everything shook. It was like watching a video held by someone with palsy shaking the camera, except we were shaking too. We sort of all just stood there looking at each other, the earth rocking us. It wasn’t a long or very heavy earthquake, though, just enough for my brother and I to shout “Cool!” after my mother told us what it was.

I think there’s been one earthquake since I’ve been here. It was at night, and I was in bed, and ever so briefly, it felt like I was being gently rocked to sleep. (The editor in me is shocked at how many clauses I crammed into one run-on sentence, but I’m too tired to fix it.)

So, hardened earthquake veterans, do you just duck when it really gets shaky? I don’t remember anyone dropping to the floor to cover their heads during that long-ago summer afternoon.

Going to bed– here’s hoping my latest unrequited lover is dead, or has buzzed off. Sleeping with the buzzing in your ear of an affectionate mosquito is really difficult. Ended up looking a bit like a drunken sailor meeting the parents last week– was stung on one eyelid and my pinky finger so that they both swelled pink, combined with the usual gravity-defiant hair. Getting a mosquito net this week in addition to the little plug-in poison diffuser.

Wan An (“good night,” though I think a more direct translation would be “night’s peace”).

Free Rice

June 2019
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