Sitting at Sippy Cups, reading Yeats, and this fabulous poem, from which I swiped a portion from Chicky's blog to capture today. What I love about my life is the coffee--Highlander Grogg and my homemade oatmeal served best (brown sugar, cinnamon and the dash of cardamom, just because) here at "Sippy's" (an endangered species of a place, watch for the campaign to save it,) listening to Edith and the regulars wonder at Richard Thompson's upcoming concert, the number 17 bus driving by and shaking the windows, the emuist (at work, playing the serious physician) but occupying space here because we work and laugh here so often, and my calender which notes Chicky Wang's serious intention for breakfast Friday and Forever21--to celebrate partial victories (because, we could be dead, after all).
And with that I deliver this passage, which yes, Chicky, reverbs all through me.
Why she doesn’t get more irritated when the computer underlines her mistakes, especially when they aren’t even mistakes, it’s just that the computer can’t understand what she wants to say or how she wants to say it. How italics sometimes communicate feeling so well. Why tone is so important, and body language, and even touching another person sometimes, and hearing that person’s voice, and using the expressive functions unique to human beings. Whether she will kiss someone again. Whether the winter will be very cold again this year, and she’ll stay inside a lot. Whether or not there will be time to say all the things she needs to say to certain people. How conscious her use is of different forms of forgetting – sleep, drink, blind love. And whether this forgetting is balanced by wanting at other times so badly not to forget.
from Emily Anglin's If Lady Caroline Lamb Were Alive Today: Things She Would Not Know
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