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Channeling Norma Desmond
There was a period of my youth in which I wanted to be an actress. Just one of many dream careers I wanted before I hit my teens—along with ballerina, veterinarian, musician, and pilot. Flying was miraculous to me in those days. If I could have sprouted wings and taken…
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Care
I will try to be brief, as my time is in short supply these days. I had not intended to post, and considered letting this blog lapse, but a couple of things have been sticking me, like an itch that isn’t easily reached. If you have been thrust into the…
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Seriously….
Dear Smart Oven, You’re starting to creep me out. Since your arrival in July, you have updated your software several times even though I have intentionally skipped the part of the set-up which would have allowed you access to my internet. It’s clear you’ve somehow gained access to it anyway,…
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Floor, Please….
I lived in a building with one of these. It was old and dusty, its exterior unassuming, the interior suggestive of grander days, with its marble floors and winding staircase, high ceilings, and apartments with parquet floors. It was on a side street across from the Budapest Opera House, and…
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Provenance
His car belonged to a Nazi.Not a would be,Or wannabe,Or could have been,Or clone,But a Nazi high in rank,A name you’d know,And I forgotThe minute he smiled and said it. He keeps it under wraps in his garageTo shield it from harsh winters,Hungry salt;But brings it out when sunlight burnsEach…
