It’s a matter of velocity, clutter, and yogurt. With apologies to William W: Disconnected snippets recollected in a less than tranquil state.
Quarantine got you down? Changed anything about your life?
As a spiky virus infiltrates the community, with quarantine for oldsters the norm, it’s certainly not business as usual for me, here in Siberia With a View. Continue reading
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