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Sunday, 16 February 2003 | Smooth puzzle

Sort of by accident, I've been introducing friends from different areas of my life to each other, marrying independent relationships so that I am no longer the sole joint that holds them together. It's been less of a conscious move to form triangles and squares and pentagons out of my friendships, and more of a way to see my friends, to bring pieces together that are normally scattered, in hopes that they will like each other for some of the same reasons I like all of them. Last night I invited some of those pieces over, and, fortunately, they formed a surprisingly smooth puzzle, albeit one that will probably be assembled exactly once. We spent a few hours at my place, eventually leaving for an electro-clash club that's around the corner, shedding and acquiring some of the pieces. The evening went at least as well as I had hoped.

I'd gone to the protest earlier in the day. It was good, of course, to see so many people—different types of people—congregating in the cold because of their concern for the world. More cops than I'd ever seen before, standing in formation with their legs in upside-down Vs, one shiny black shoe touching the next, and decked out in riot gear: helmets with clear shields, night sticks and plastic zip-tie handcuffs hanging off their belts. Of course there were lots of homemade signs, lots of energy, spurts of chanting. The organism was spread out over several streets, and, as a result, it was impossible for me to appreciate its size. I was disappointed that I didn't get to hear the speakers, which is the part that means the most to me, and I felt much more like an onlooker than a participant, signless and camera-laden. Still, glad I was there.

Now, Sunday, and the snow is pouring out of a hole in the sky, not down, but directly horizontal, as if gravity has been reworked. Twelve to 20 inches...? The plastic on the building-in-progress outside of my window is shrieking as it's being whipped around, but everything else is silent. My friend Stef, who's visiting from Raleigh, is likely not going home tomorrow.

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FROM THE ARCHIVES:

Twister: When I was in Astoria, standing on the roof watching fireworks explode in the air over Manhattan, I had no idea what you were doing.

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elsewhere
lisa whiteman lens: photography portfolio

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

 
 

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