Brut Rose
It is weird, but after a week at my parents' home, I am having this weird adjustment issue being home. Jacob is having it as well. I miss them, which I didn't expect. Not sure why this is the case, but maybe it is just that time of year. Maybe I am more human than I thought.
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We still don't know who might be coming over tonight to drink champagne with us. Neither of us seem particularly phased by this.
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I am tempted to post a list of the things I am thankful for in 2006, but I will spare you all such pain. Much better lists are floating around out there.
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Last night, there was a huge ring, a mandorla, around the moon. It looked like something from the Sci-Fi channel. It was incredible. It looked like one of those explosions that are supposed to be nuclear but caught in a still on film. It really was unreal.
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The ring of light around the moon last night was not ghostly. It was white and bright, hazy but with enough quantity to have depth and weight. Light is interesting this way. You don't really see it but the particles it hits. Conundrum that isn't really a conundrum: light being both wave and particle.
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A blogger I happened to publish in NER this year has a poem that was picked up by Best American Poetry for next year. More on this later.
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Twice in the past month, someone has told me I should just start my own poetry journal. I wish it were that easy to do. I know it isn't. I know people who have done it.
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Clue: Billecart-Salmon Brut Rose
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