Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season

© by Gerald So | geraldso.blogspot.com | 11:15 P.M.

I'm borrowing a Buffett song title to report regretfully I've had to cancel my trip to Bouchercon 2016 because the September 1 Amtrak AutoTrain covering 900 miles of the trip was canceled due to inclement weather. The same weather concerns led my relatives to back out of driving, and here we are.

Sorry I won't get to see old friends and make new ones, but I wish you all safe travels and a great con.

Not Nice

© by Gerald So | geraldso.blogspot.com | 7:00 A.M.

We don't expect terror
to be so clear as
to drive a truck through
roadblocks and people
in a bid to
be remembered
over Bastille Day.
It's just as clear
we should fight
memory with memory.

At The Five-Two: "The Writing of Harlots" by Paul Hostovsky

© by Gerald So | geraldso.blogspot.com | 5:50 A.M.

Hostovsky returns with a coming-of-age poem:



Submit to guest editor Erica Guo by October 31 or to Charles Rammelkamp by November 15.

I'm Walking Here: Distended Metaphor?

On Wednesday, I took the LIRR to visit friends in Lindenhurst. From where I live, I have to train to Jamaica, Queens and transfer there to a train back east to Lindenhurst. A circuitous route, yes, but I walk 2.3 miles to my nearest train station.

I've always wished I didn't have to go to Manhattan or way out east for a mystery or poetry venue, and that day I thought I found one. Right on my way to the Carle Place station was a new-looking building with the word "POETS" in large print on the side. I stopped and paid my respects, looked in the window from across the street but had no time to look closer. When I got home, I searched for the building's address online and learned Poets was a skate shop.

So-litude

I made a difficult decision this week, drawing criticism from two good friends so far, maybe more later. It was nonetheless the right decision for me, and has shown me there's a limit to how deeply any two people can understand each other.

It was not a religious decision, but I've taken solace in The Prayer of St. Thomas More, introduced to me by one of my favorite teachers in college, particularly the first lines:

Give me Thy grace, good Lord
to set the world at nought;
To set my mind fast upon Thee,
and not to hang upon the blast of men’s mouths;
To be content to be solitary,

Gone Postal

Last Thursday, I received an e-mail from Amazon telling me the U.S. Postal Service had tried unsuccessfully to deliver my order the day before (the Leverage soundtrack and the collected poems of Philip Larkin) and that my package would be available for pickup at the post office indicated on the notice.

Problem: I never received the aforementioned notice. The USPS automated call-in system could not track my package, so I called a local post office where my mail had been held in the past. I said I never got a notice and was told I didn't need the notice; I could come in and pick up mail with my photo ID.

So yesterday, I went to the post office and waited in line for forty-five minutes only to have a counter person check for my package without looking at my photo ID to confirm my address (I'm pretty sure he misheard me.)—all while the counter person next to him was telling another customer, "I have to check your ID. Otherwise, how do I know you're not some crazy guy picking up other people's mail?"

Finally back home, I e-mailed Amazon, telling them everything I did to try and retrieve my order, and they sent me a new Leverage CD by UPS and refunded me for the Larkin book, which was no longer in stock.