hemiacetals

i'm in ucsf library right now. i am to go downstairs and pick up lots of articles as no one has been coming here from publ health library for two and a half weeks now. i kinda wandered over here, and i thought i'd drop a line.

finals were childbirthing, and i now have postpregnancy depression. it's a common syndrome, really. the baby may be perfectly healthy, the dad completely supportive and sensitive, but still, the syndrome doesn't go away.

this time around, i gave it all the heart i knew how to give. i hope it shows up at such.

freddie, my chem gsi was "hammered" when he came in to haas pavillion for the eight oclock exam this morning. what a guy, i won't miss him. you see, i have grown.

sleep deprivation is a silly thing. it's not worth losing health, wealth, and mind over, and yet, i'm walking today like a drug addict having to have gone on for a whole day without her precious meth.

mm, meth.

 
from today's http://writersalmanac.org

The Poet's Occasional Alternative

I was going to write a poem
I made a pie instead it took
about the same amount of time
of course the pie was a final
draft a poem would have had some
distance to go days and weeks and
much crumpled paper

the pie already had a talking
tumbling audience among small
trucks and a fire engine onthe kitchen floor
everybody will like this pieit will have apples and cranberries
dried apricots in it many friends
will say why in the world did you
make only one

this does not happen with poems

because of unreportable
sadnesses I decided to
settle this morning for a re-
sponsive eatership I do not
want to wait a week a
year ageneration for the right
consumer to come along.

 
man with the green bag

there's an eighty year old man in the public health library who carries with him his whole life in two suitcases. he falls asleep a lot, and my footsteps usually stir him awake. he got up for a drink of water momentarily when i was up there yesterday, and i gave into the curiosity that has been gnawing at me for a long time and i went over to his little desk to see what all the papers were about. now, suffice it to say, i shouldn't read people's thingies when they leave their desks, but it isn't as if reading a friend's diary, it's a stranger,..and he doesn't know me, and i'll never know him, and really if you think about it long and hard, it's not intruding into his life, it's more like taking a sneak peak. erase sneak.

so anyway, i went over to his mass stack of papers and started looking at them. they were oligonucleotide patterns in DNA. and he had pages and pages and pages of sequenced three letter codons. then there was a copy of anna karenina on the bottom of a huge stack. i guess for when he takes breaks. he is almost done.

he came back pretty quickly. and i carried on. it felt like the secret garden of books. i wonder what he's doing, all those days he spends in the most out of the way place in the library. i wonder if he cared to tell anyone.