Mỗi lần bà xã giận vì tôi lười biếng, tôi giả thích, “Bởi anh lười nên anh đâu có làm gì đâu mà em giận”.

Buyer: Hello, how long have you been using this? Thank you

Me: 2 seasons

Buyer: May I know why do you have many skis?

Me: 2 reasons:

1. It’s my business.
2. It’s none of your fucking business.

Me: Are you still interested in buying the skis?

Needless to say, I didn’t make the sale.

Kristin Bair, my longest client of more than 16 years, will release her forth novel, Clementine Crane Prefers Not To, tomorrow, October 14, 2025. I pre-ordered my copy. I read all three of her previous books and can’t wait to read her new one soon. Check out her website designed by yours truly.

things got terribly ugly incredibly quickly
things got ugly embarrassingly quickly
actually things got ugly unbelievably quickly
honestly things got ugly seemingly infrequently
initially things got ugly ironically usually
awfully carefully things got ugly unsuccessfully
occasionally things got ugly mostly painstakingly
quietly seemingly things got ugly beautifully
infrequently things got ugly sadly especially
frequently unfortunately things got ugly
increasingly obviously things got ugly suddenly
embarrassingly forcefully things got really ugly
regularly truly quickly things got really incredibly
ugly things will get less ugly inevitably hopefully

Terrance Hayes

Tuning your gears are crucial for your skiing and snowboarding experience on the terrains. Without proper tuning, your equipment won’t perform well; therefore, you won’t enjoy your time on the trails.

Nevertheless, you don’t need to break your bank to get your gears ready for your trip to the slopes. My rate is 50% less than the ski shops’ rate.

I will try to finish the job within a day or two. I have been tuning skis and snowboards for over 5 years.

Ski and snowboard tuning include:

• Base fixes with P-Text
• Edge sharpen and bevel
• Custom hand wax

I am located near George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia. If you need tuning services, contact me.

Here are the gears I have tuned.

I hadn’t heard of Ledisi before, but I sure had heard of Dinah. When I first got into jazz many years ago, I spent a great deal of time listening to Dinah Washington. Listening to Ledisi pay tribute to the Queen of the Blues, I get nostalgic. She kicks off the album with Dinah’s 1957 signature, “What a Difference a Day Makes,” with an intoxicating blues vibe. Ledisi has a big, soulful, smoky voice. She can scat like hell too—check out her bluesy rendition of “If I Never Get to Heaven.” Of course, she can also swing and her duet with Gregory Porter on “You’ve Got What It Takes” is a beautiful collaboration. With Christian McBride anchoring the double bass, Ledisi declares, “You don’t know what love is / Until you’ve learned the meaning of the blues.” For Dinah is a short and sweet tribute that is filled with the blues.

The days I don’t want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains on the floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!

Gabrielle Calvocoressi

I don’t want to die in a poem
the words burning in eulogy
the sun howling why
the moon sighing why not

I don’t want to die in bed
which is a poem gone wrong
a world turned in on itself
a floating navel of dreams

I won’t meet death in a field
like a dot punctuating a page
it’s too vast yet too tiny
everyone will say it’s a bit cinematic

I don’t want to pass away in your arms
those gentle parentheses
nor expire outside of their swoon
self-propelled determined shouting

Let the end come
as the best parts of living have come
unsought and undeserved
inconvenient

now that’s a good death

what nonsense you say
that’s not even worth
writing down

Rita Dove

Tôi rất thích giọng hát đầy chất khói của Tuấn Hưng nhưng lại ít nghe album của anh. Mấy đêm nay lôi Nhạc…xưa của anh ra nghe. Anh hát “Niệm khúc cuối” như đang mượn lời lẽ của nhạc sĩ Ngô Thụy Miên để bày tỏ lòng mình. Với “Cỏ úa” anh trút hết tâm hồn mình vào ca tư của nhạc sĩ Lam Phương. Anh ca chậm rãi và nâng niu từng chữ một. Anh phát âm nhẹ nhàng và rõ ràng (hơn Mr. Đàm nhiều). Anh hát “Đoản khúc cuối cho em” của Hoàng Trọng Thụy rất có cảm xúc.

Not the pleasure of lovers but the pleasure of letters, a pleasure like weather, delayed and prepared for, not the pleasure of lessons but the pleasure of errors, of nightmares, of actors in the black box of a theatre, not the pleasure of present but the pleasure of later, the pleasure of letters and weather and terror, asleep by the lake, unable to answer, the pleasure of candles, their wax on the table, not the pleasure of saviors but the pleasure of errors, not the pleasure of marriage but the pleasure of failure, the pleasure of characters like family members, their failures and errors, their laughter and weather, the pleasure of water, terrible rivers, not the pleasure of empire but the pleasure of after, our failure to keep an accurate record, not the pleasure of tethers but the pleasure of strangers, the terrible strangers who will become your lovers, not the pleasure of novels but the pleasure of anger, your failure to answer all of my letters, the pleasure of daughters, the pleasure of daughters writing letters in April, the failure of orchards, the terror of mothers, not the pleasure of planners but the pleasure of errors.

Madeleine Cravens