A reader offers criticism, my betterment her goal.
She sends her comment via e-mail.
This much is pleasing since I’m not obliged to post her message on the Siberia With a View site, where it will remain trapped on hard drive and in the cloud until a thermonuclear blast high in the atmosphere or the radiation from an exploding star erases it.
When I created the site, I promised I would post all comments, positive or negative, welcome or not. It’s gratifying when someone responds to the site to indicate they enjoy a post; it’s a pain in the ass when I add a comment submitted by someone who doesn’t fathom what’s going on. But, as promised, when these bozos bark, I open the door and let them in. I try to ignore them. I move on.
No such promise regarding e-mails. Continue reading
It’s the cocktail hour, straps slip off the thought box, the contents spill out and scatter.
For the sake of entertainment, I think, let’s say there’s a god. Continue reading
Great ideas, no response, ugly results.
Usually, I get past the disappointment; the bruise heals, the insult fades.
Not this time
The plague is upon us, and this prompts me to remember an opportunity lost, to rub a bruise still tender decades after the injury. Continue reading
Donnie forks a load of material through the entrance to his chow chute.
The governor issued an order requiring restaurants to close indoor seating service and go to take-out only. It’s pandemic time, kids. Wake the fuck up, and shelter in place!
We’re not quite awake.
Donnie’s in the driver’s seat of his 2017 Nissan Juke. I’m in the opposite-side, rear passenger seat, as near to six feet distant from my host as I can manage. The windows are open.
We’re eating breakfast in a car, in the parking lot of our favorite cafe, our food delivered in large, styrofoam containers. Continue reading