Coffee shop. Hour and a half before the evening meeting I must cover. Death Cab for Cutie playing. I hate Death Cab for Cutie. They make me want to beat myself with the nearest available chair, repeatedly forever. They make me want to drown myself in cheap coffee and contaminated water. I have despaired. I am angered. I am ready to deny all truth--oh, good, some righteous upright-in-heart soul has put on the Pixies. We are appeased.
A few items from the Oregonian:
- They are putting poems on mass transit machines: buses, or the MAX I think. I can't find the story now. I wonder if this is actually an act of culture or rather an act of frantic guilt that we aren't cultured. Or maybe...man, I don't even know. Yay for poems on buses!
- Man sets himself on fire. For fur. Surely there are more constructive ways to protest, but maybe not.
New York Times
- Haiti. I feel like we're all going to forget about this very quickly, which is horrible.
What else...
Hmmm.
I think that's it.
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