He glared at my house, shook his head, picked up the can and turned it upside down into the truck, glared again, shook his head again, and drove off. I recognize someone just having a bad day at work, but I don't think I (or our house) was really at fault there

Ideally we don’t know the face of any journalist, like, we shouldn’t know them as a person basically.

this world now is almost nothing like i would want! i would like being generally honest and scrupulous to be valued. i would like art to be a kind of human communication. i would like it if police weren't brutalizing my neighbors. i would like affordable coffee, stable meaningful work for people

I remember reading in the Wells College history about the "kicking tree," which marked a certain point along a route of daily required exercise. More painful to kick a rock, but satisfying if it looks like Nixon