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Tavie 
dave foley mark mckinney e.mail 
archive
  
 
blogs i like:
 
amy 
andrew 
carl 
barb cooking blog 
boing boing 
caroline 
cartoon brew 
chris 
cityroom 
consumerist 
erin 
gena/ deadly stealth frogs 
gothamist 
jim hill 
kids in the hall lj 
kithblog 
matt k 
mike t 
nathan 
post secret 
rynn 
sarah 
sarah c 
sean 
tea rose 
toby 
tom 
  
webcomics i read: 
american elf 
american stickman 
elfquest 
lolcats! 
masque of the red death 
the perry bible fellowship 
toothpaste for dinner 
ultrajoebot 
xkcd
  
Other places to find me:
me on the tumblr 
me on the flickr 
me on the formspring 
me on the twitter 
me on the ravelry 
me on the myspace
  
  
 
 
  
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my 'currently-reading' shelf:
  
 
 i want: 
wish list
 
 
i've read: 
goodreads list
 
   
  
  
 
  | ? |   
      
      Tuesday, December 04, 2001             
    The fingers know not what they numbly beat
 Upon these meekly yielding plastic drums
 Whose faint tattoos announce the dull defeat
 Of all but slavish thoughts to weekly sums.
 The fingers now know naught but to obey
 And only seek their ill-begotten prize,
 Ignoring every brief urge to betray
 The orchestrator of her own demise:
 
 The mind which had a rhythm once its own
 Now instrument of data-entry drone.
     Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:33 PM | shower me with attention  
   
  
   
  
 
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