
Snow, that is. With 18-24″ of snow over the past day, it’s just too much. It’s too much to drive in, too much to have to brush off your car, and too much to dig out your car. I like snow when I don’t have to go anywhere. I like it when I can look out my window and say, “How pretty.” But when I have to get out in it. When I have to sludge through the snow to my car, or when I have to hope and pray that my apartment owner gets someone out to plow the parking lot, that’s when it’s just too damn much snow.
Too Damn Much…
Adolescence
Adolescence
By Claude McKay
There was a time when in late afternoon
The four-o’clocks would fold up at day’s close
Pink-white in prayer, and ’neath the floating moon
I lay with them in calm and sweet repose.
And in the open spaces I could sleep,
Half-naked to the shining worlds above;
Peace came with sleep and sleep was long and deep,
Gained without effort, sweet like early love.
But now no balm—nor drug nor weed nor wine—
Can bring true rest to cool my body’s fever,
Nor sweeten in my mouth the acid brine,
That salts my choicest drink and will forever.
Analysis by Juan Pablo
Adolescence is the story of how the narrator is looking back, reflecting on life and the past. This is noted in line 1, “There was time …”. The narrator is looking back at his adolescent days remembering the things he used to do; such as in lines 5 and 6, “And in open space I could sleep, Half-naked to the shining worlds above”. The narrator then confesses to us that now that they are older and mature, the substances that the narrator once used to cope with the pain or grief (line 9, “no balm–nor drug nor weed nor wine- Can bring true rest to cool my body’s fever,”) thus implying that the narrator realized that substance abuse does not help people with their problem. This poem is about coming of age and realization of past mistakes. The author also used rhyme every other line; for example, afternoon and floating moon. The author used an ABAB rhyme scheme.
The Sin of Partiality
My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, “You sit here in a good place,” while you say to the poor man, “You stand over there,” or, “Sit down at my feet,” have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor man. Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court? Are they not the ones who blaspheme the honorable name by which you were called?If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing well. But if you show partiality, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it. For he who said, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not murder.” If you do not commit adultery but do murder, you have become a transgressor of the law. So speak and so act as those who are to be judged under the law of liberty. For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.James 2:1-13
“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal… It is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.
Mister Sister

After 11 years without a gay bar, Vermont has a new one opening tonight. Unless I have a relapse of some kind from my cold, I plan to be there. Mister Sister is the name of the new bar, it replaces a bar called Oak 45, which closed to be redone as Mister Sister. Instead of Burlington where you’d expect the bar to be, it is opening in Winooski. I’ve never been to Winooski, so this will be a first for me.
The new bar has gotten a lot of flack because of its name. Trans people in Vermont say that it is a slur on trans women. The bar owner says that it was meant to be inclusive of the whole LGBTQ Community. I do not think any offense was meant by the owner. If you google Mister Sister, you of course get the song, but it will also show a closed Miami bar by the same name. In my opinion, some people take political correctness a little too far. It’s been 11 years since Vermont had a gay bar. Who cares what they named it. Let’s go have some fun.
On the Mend

After a week of coughing and sore throat, I am finally on the mend. The only problem is that as I recuperate from having a cold, I developed pink eye. Pink eye is highly contagious so I may have to stay home another day. It’s all according to how I feel when I wake up this morning. At least the doctor gave me some good cough syrup and medicine for my eyes.
Art
Art
Erika Jo Brown
Not many passions take your pants off—
painting with oils, reading in the afternoon,
other people’s bodies. I want to really
say something here. I want to be clear.
But just as no two people see the same
colors, what you hear is not what I’m
saying. Not conversations as much as
serial misunderstandings, proximate
in space. One considers the dictionary
definition of “man.” One considers
the definition of “woman.” One considers
arm hair, soft spaces on a hot body.
The obsessive heat-seeking quality of
attraction. The paint on my pinkie is for
you—a little poison, a little turpentine.
The snaggletooth I want to stick my
tongue into. This is pigment from a rock,
this is pigment from a bug, this is pigment
from a bleeding heart, and this is jeopardy.
Passion brought me here, but passion
cannot save me. To mix linseed and
varnish, to create something is to vanish
what was there before. Chroma for fastness,
chemistry tricks. Such bold strokes in
erasing and framing delicate beginnings.
About This Poem
“During an artist residency in Vermont, I observed the precautions that painters and sculptors took before handling their materials, including switching out of street clothes into studio ensembles. I wrote this about a month before my wedding. Romance was in the air, as were toxic fumes—same thing, no?”
—Erika Jo Brown
Still Sick
I still feel like crap with this cold. I barely have a voice right now. As I wrote this last night, I was seriously thinking of taking one more day off work just to get a little better recovered. I am feeling better than I was Friday or Saturday so that’s an improvement.














