theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: December 2007
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.html
Monday, December 3, 2007. Maybe the manager was right about redheads, I don’t know. I only know myself. I’m too old to be an Oliver Twist, object of pity. But I am too young for it to be fair. The worst is the manager. Today he called me Red in that way the always do. Then he patted my backside. I wanted to slap him, but I can’t quite. It’s only been a few weeks. I may not have ambition, but I am stubborn as anything. Links to this post. Sunday, December 2, 2007. Why is this problem important?
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: Lisa
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2010/05/lisa.html
Sunday, May 23, 2010. I just found this. Story about Lisa from last fall in the Daily Iowan. More than 10 years after the deadly protest, Weaver was the sole correspondent reporting with a live. Video-phone feed from China on the Hainan spy-plane incident during the standoff between China and the. United States over the mid-air crash between the nations’ planes. That’s when authorities arrested her on live. But Weaver shrugs it off. But, as the tall and thin. What is this, a wanted poster? What I wouldn'...
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: July 2010
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html
Monday, July 26, 2010. Links to this post. I look at pictures and I am puzzled that I was the one behind the camera. It has already become a blur, which means several things - it was fun, it was fast, and it was foreign. But I trust my mama's instincts and to a lesser extent my own. If I learn to separate my anxiety and paranoia from my instincts, I might be okay with this stuff. Throughout the day there was weed and chicken. We passed the James River and it was just beautiful. There were railroa...We sa...
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: Richmond
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2010/07/richmond.html
Monday, July 26, 2010. I look at pictures and I am puzzled that I was the one behind the camera. It has already become a blur, which means several things - it was fun, it was fast, and it was foreign. But I trust my mama's instincts and to a lesser extent my own. If I learn to separate my anxiety and paranoia from my instincts, I might be okay with this stuff. Throughout the day there was weed and chicken. We passed the James River and it was just beautiful. There were railroad track beside it an...We sa...
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: January 2008
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2008_01_01_archive.html
Saturday, January 12, 2008. Well, now I no longer need this blog for school, so what next? I don't feel like abandoning it, and God knows, all the cool kids had addresses that involve blogspot. I'll keep it, then we'll see if it serves a purpose. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). From the coffee shop guy to your academic adviser to a Montana farmer, Not Friends are people who matter that you may never see again, much less call up for coffee. And poetry, folks. Poetry is my poetry.
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: November 2009
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html
Thursday, November 19, 2009. Waiting to call Mr. James, my stomach was in vicious knots. Once I had told him it was an honor and hung up the phone, I had a high that somebody shouldn’t ever bottle, because there’d be a whole lot more addicts around. I did it. Jesus H. Christ, I just talked to a piece of history. Survived to the rest of the war. Survived until January 18 2008. While people at Chatham were crying over Heath Ledger, I was crying over Mr James. I came back from three days in Croatia and ther...
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: June 2009
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html
Monday, June 15, 2009. Butte, Montana bus station. She could hardly starve for three days. Before I could formulate any sort of response to this awful little scene, Molly was handing a twenty dollar pill to the girl. Asia was shocked and grateful, she hugged my Aunt, and the cousins and I exchanged quiet looks of pride in our relative. Links to this post. Saturday, June 6, 2009. Links to this post. Old crow medicine show. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. My old history teacher's blog.
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: May 2010
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html
Sunday, May 23, 2010. I just found this. Story about Lisa from last fall in the Daily Iowan. More than 10 years after the deadly protest, Weaver was the sole correspondent reporting with a live. Video-phone feed from China on the Hainan spy-plane incident during the standoff between China and the. United States over the mid-air crash between the nations’ planes. That’s when authorities arrested her on live. But Weaver shrugs it off. But, as the tall and thin. What is this, a wanted poster? What I wouldn'...
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: April 2009
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html
Saturday, April 25, 2009. Lisa, a true Not Friend, though I wish it were different. She means more to me than any old person on the street. But our relationship does not justify keeping in touch, and her awkwardness makes it unlikely. She has no idea how important she has been to me, and how she has helped. And she'll never quite get it. All I can do is say, half-joking, that when I am a famous correspondent for Atlantic Monthly in 7 or 15 years, Lisa you must have a drink with me. Links to this post.
theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com
Not Friends: December 2009
http://theyrenotfriends.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html
Saturday, December 12, 2009. I chased this guy down Carson Street, lost him, but then took his picture when he doubled back. He's my Not Friend because anybody who provides the joy of a man singing and playing "Wagon Wheel" on the banjo while riding a unicycle is worth recognition. Getting back on the unicycle with the banjo is the tricky part.). Links to this post. More Not Friends poems. This is what I look like on a greyhound bus.). The bus driver in blue, chews his sweet-burning pipe,. And we wait fo...
