!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> perpetual huddle: 06_07

perpetual huddle

publication is a self-invasion of privacy. -marshall mcluhan

associates must stay in contact at all times in order to maintain a perpetual huddle. -officemax handbook

Saturday, June 23, 2007

A-

blood centers of the pacifici gave blood today (pause for applause).
last time i donated was outside
officemax in a mobile unit.
basically, i was stuck in a stuffy van,
a needle dangling out of my arm,
with my regional manager yammering
away nervously in the next bed,
and heckling the tiny asian girls
who couldn't give a whole pint.
i had the last appointment,
so they told me not
to climb stairs without a friend,
kicked me out onto the sidewalk
and drove off.

this time i donated at the irwin center
and now i want to hang out there every day.
first of all, the building is super-strange.
the parking lot is paved like a patio,
and landscaped with corkscrew topiaries.
there are also three fountains out front,
the water dyed the color of blue-raspberry.
inside, everything is round and dim,
designed to be soothing.

the sign-in clipboard
has a built-in digital clock.
they give you a t-shirt
before you even fill out
the paperwork.
in the waiting area
there are good magazines,
and even a book-swap nook.

once you're in back the nurses
are all lighthearted and unhurried.
they call you by your first name
and ask you how you're feeling
with genuine concern every couple minutes.
they joke with you about the tropical fish tank
and your friend's iron levels. apparently,
laughing keeps your blood pressure up.
you squeeze a little foam ball
as a cradle gently rocks your bag of blood,
and before you know it, you're finished,
with a hot pink bandage around your elbow.

where else could you
lounge in a recliner,
pretzel crumbs all down
the front of your shirt,
drinking cranberry juice
through a bendy straw,
and feel totally self-righteous
while you're doing it?

after you sit up slowly
they usher you into "the canteen,"
a round bar stocked with packets of oreos,
where you get to wait for at least another 15 minutes
while another nice lady serves you more juice.
the stools are padded,
the counter, cool marble.
there's a big plasma-screen tv
set on close-caption,
more good magazines,
and a bunch of brochures
calling you a hero.

its 56 days until i'm eligible again,
but my best friend is going to pound
some iron supplements and give it another shot,
so with any luck i'll be back next weekend.

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Tuesday, June 19, 2007

block quote: totally forgetting

paula poundstone coverI bought a black chiffon spaghetti-strap shirt and jacket once. The salesperson told me I couldn't wear it with corduroy. There was a sense of danger in her voice. It didn't sound like merely a "fashion don't," but rather a word of serious caution, as though the combination of the two fabrics might result in an explosion. She repeated the warning as she bagged the garment. She was troubled by an uncanny sense that I owned a lot of corduroy. The military must have bunkers full of carefully separated corduroy and black chiffon secreted away somewhere in Nevada. It's one of those tigers we hold by the tail, like the A-bomb. I never wore the black chiffon shirt and evening jacket. Too risky. I buy impulsively sometimes, totally forgetting what I look like and how I spend my time. Amazingly, the fantasy of going out someplace kind of fancy, on a night when I wasn't wearing corduroy and had shaved, lasted long enough for that shirt and jacket to make the cut through three moves and countless closet cleanings.

--paula poundstone, there's nothing in this book i meant to say

Saturday, June 16, 2007

the year of the bellydance

dunk dreamslisten to charlie schroeder's
funny little radio story,
originally aired on

weekend america,
about him enrolling

in "dunk dreams,"
a class to make you jump higher.
i like
the good-natured tone of the piece.
plus, he interviews his mom... always endearing.

who's prissy now?

criss-crossed fire-engine red suspenders, a loincloth, and a magnificent pair of hip wadersout of entertainment weekly's
25 greatest action movies
of all time,
goldfinger is #19.
this morning i found the item
posted on my bedroom door.
listed among its merits:

Sean Connery

in a powder blue
terry-cloth onesie.

great minds think alike!
anyone who can find

an actual captured still,
of the bond bathing outfit
wins a kiss on the mouth.
but for now this pre-007
ensemble will have to do.

Friday, June 15, 2007


















Thursday, June 14, 2007

non-alcoholic... i can feed it to my kids

pepsi can If you can't quench my thirst
What you in my fridge for?
What you wanna live for?


scroll down
the a.v. club's first annual absolute best issue
to "best skeleton in the closet of a famous rapper"
for the full audio clip of notorious b.i.g.'s "pepsi freestyle"

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

block quote: i could do that much

the time of our singingShe bought me a little Wurlitzer electric piano. It must have cost two years of saltwater taffy savings, and it was only a tenth of the instrument that I had sold for a few hundred dollars after my father died. She showed up at my place the day of delivery, hiding her face in excitement and fear. "I thought you might want something to practice on. And to work with. While you're... while you aren't..."

read the next three paragraphs, here.
i typed them straight from the page,
without looking at the keys.
it was fun, a little like it was my own.

i haven't had much time to blog,
but i'm almost to page 500
in
the time of our singing
a vast novel by richard powers,
broiling with hyperbolie, epiphany,
music, and race.

my commute is long.
the book gives me a lot to think about
as i struggle to find my place
at a school in the bayview
district of san francisco.
the kids at work, especially the girls
come to think of it, only the girls,
are always asking me what i am.
even though i can count the other white
faculty and students on one hand,
they're not asking what you'd expect.
"what are you? a mother? a sister?
a teacher?" they grin, and maybe
hop on one foot while they ask,
but they demand the answer.
i try to avoid the question,
usually by laughing indulgently
and saying "i'm certainly not a mother!"
or "i guess i do have a sister.
she lives in seattle.
do you know where seattle is?
its in washington state."
today one of them caught me off guard
i stopped, halfway through tying
a new bracelet on her upturned wrist,
accused again of not
being something,
or at least,
of not knowing it.
"miss huddle,
what are you?"
the sparkly beads
slid off the string,
one after another,
hitting the floor.
i snapped "actually,
i'm a writer."
she started crying.
i bent and reached
for the first bead i saw.

Friday, June 8, 2007

today on aol

zero tolerance towels
mindless pap. hanson on gadgets
rivals only sheriff uses pink to deter prisoners
for the america online grand prize in journalism.