Kesper North pinged me to tell me that I have been namechecked by Wired - which probably makes me 'Tired' immediately. But the 'Danger Room' blog (Wired's defense blog) has deemed me a 'naval pundit.' Wooohooo! I have achieved false relevance!

On a more serious note, there's a lot of you smart people here. Some of you care about the Navy and defense policy (I know, because I've talked to you). Come over to Information Dissemination (see my homenode for details) and snipe at me from the comments. You know you want to. Leave E2 links in your wake.

On a more somber note yet, I just discovered that a cruise ship I have faint but fond memories of from when I was a mere tot, taken on a Windjammer cruise by my parents, sank in 1998 during Hurricane Mitch. 30 crew were lost. That...just sucks. I know it's trite, but I dunno what else to say. It's weird knowing that that small piece of my early memories now has a definite end - and that my memories are all I'll ever see of that ship.

Feeling clumsy and mute.
Sitting in a quiet room.
The computer hums, waiting.
Chattering doubts
rattle out of my keyboard.
The screen responds.
I am pinned by the cursor
to the edge of the white void.

Outside the sky is grey and backlit.
There are trees, dark leaves of prunus,
seedlings reclaiming the lawn, bottlebrush and eucalypt.
The willow in the creek bed is persistently green.
The grass is tawny and full of seeds.
The garden is seeding too, spinach, onion, parsley,
tall and dry, falling about, restarting the cycle.
They all compete to fill the air with futures options.
Nature's mass mailout addressed to spring.
A magpie does a stocktake of the verge.
Some kind of temporal vertigo.
No commuting rhythm, no voice.
No metered clutter and fuss of a working day.
Wide expanses of silence and opportunity.

Gentle afternoon
Soft light, timeless without shadows.
Cool enough to make soup.
Washing clothes.
The dogs stalk the long grass like sandy tigers.
Some kind of peaceful.
Still space and safety.
Stepping carefully.
Connecting one word at a time.
Pushing the doubts into line.

The dogs shake out a welcome
for the familiar car sound.
Voices and the thud of feet on the floorboards.
Laughter and garlic fill the air.
Feeling the sound and bustle retreat.
Strapping the tower to the roof racks
and driving off.
The waves of sound have pulled back from the shore.
I'm waiting for the push and crash of the next cycle.
The computer hums, waiting,
sitting in a quiet room.

Shall I pretend there is no distance in our love?

To meet under a weeping willow, scent of grief underfoot,
sunset fading through soft mist
(and the stars reveal themselves).

While you were sleeping, your soul rose
to that piece of the moon, and mine, auroras shimmered,
(stardust settling on our wings)

To lay on velvety moss, sip Kashmiri chai, overhead
clouds rumble, leaves shiver slightly
(the world clamouring beyond).

Shall I find ways to share your pain?

To hold teardrops in my palm, trees weeping,
amber imprisons memories
(swirling hardened brilliance).

While you were sleeping, I held your hand
that night, kissed your wearied lids, mother
(and garlands for your hair)

To set this wish afloat on ripples, birds sighing,
hope iridescent as bubbles
(under the weeping willow tree).


today is the 1st anniversary of our tragedy. I want to remember this forever so it may fuel me.

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