lisawhiteman.com

Monday, 10 November 2003 | Pile

I received official-looking mail that:

[one] did not tell me that there is lead paint in my apartment, but that if I have a child under six, there may be lead paint in my apartment.

[two] did not bill me for surgery, but suggested an amount I will probably have to pay.

[three] did not ask me to be a juror, but noted that I may eventually become one.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with any of it, so I keep the letters, stacked together, like a collection of old Chinese fortunes.

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FROM THE ARCHIVES:

Thou shall not kill: Our room's single window was barred, and the giant mattress had several nickel-sized holes in it.

[more featured entries]

People We Like. I've got a new photo in The Morning News: the co-owners of Frank White, an unusual coffee shop in my neighborhood.

— 07.17.08

Charles Atlas will make a man of you! "Against Atlas' better judgment, I declined performing all of my exercises in the nude." (accompanying shirtless photo of the author taken by me.)

— 07.17.08

Cat on a Leash. I am totally buying a leash for Coleman asap.

— 06.25.08

The Brooklynites. Great photos of a wide range of people from my favorite borough. (Thanks to Kurt [a talented photographer himself] for passing this on.)

— 12.19.07

Killer Boob. My childhood (and current!) friend Sarah talks about her experience with breast cancer on her well written and charming blog. She's an American living in Belgium and happens to be one of the best people I know.

— 12.19.07