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reading tiger


Morning rain was nice -- the kids broke out their umbrellas for the very first time, although I forgot their boots (and the huge puddles on the highway bridge). Also nice was the sun breaking through just an hour or so later and drying everything out in time for the walk home.

While the kids were at school, I went on an unexpectedly challenging errand to buy some peanut oil and rice wine. My go-to grocery in Oakland Chinatown was closed (it was open just a few weeks ago!). My backup is now a bubble tea shop. My third choice did not have the brand of peanut oil I prefer. So we headed up to Albany and the 99 Ranch in the Pacific East Mall. The mall was barely open and nearly completely empty when we got there. I got some brown rice and some stickers at the bookstore for the kids, too. And I eyed the mackerel with envy. Cheaper than catfish. We might have to return later in the week.


I'm planning a small altar for Bill Brent for Dia de los Muertos. I realized with a bit of discomfort that the last time I put a photo on an altar at this time of year, it was for Deborah Digges, a former writing instructor of mine who also, as it happens, killed herself, by jumping off a landmark no less. I would like this not to become a trend.


I love this essay on the tropes of literary fiction, and now I kinda want to write a story about that poor barking dog. But no, it's the last of the serial killer series for me first.


And also a passel of guest blog posts that are being difficult all out of proportion.


I wrote a short story about a barking dog. Do I get a prize?
Was it (or could it be construed to be) that barking dog?
Heh. It's Java. It's totally Java.
I am never going to read lit fic quite the same way again...
I think Gawker Media should run a blog that cheerleads the Literature genre precisely the way that Io9 cheerleads F&SF.