1 files changed, 0 insertions, 49 deletions
diff --git a/feedingtheraven.txt b/feedingtheraven.txt
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---
-title: Feeding the raven
-genre: prose
-project:
-    title: Elegies for alternate selves
-    css: elegies
-    order: 11
-    prev:
-        title: The angel to Abraham
-        link: angeltoabraham
-    next:
-        title: On formal poetry
-        link: onformalpoetry
-...
-You never can tell just when Charlie Sheen will enter your life.  For me,
-it was last Thursday.  I was reading some translation of a Japanese
-translation of "The Raven" in which the Poe and the raven become
-friends.  At one point the raven gets very sick and Poe feeds him at his
-bedside and nurses him back to health.  The story was very heartwarming
-and sad at the same time and my tears were welling up when suddenly I
-heard a knock on my door.
-I shuffled over, sniffling but managing to keep my cheeks dry to open
-it.  Of course Charlie was beaming on the other side, with a bag of
-flowers and a grin like a [dog][]'s.  He bounded in the room without saying
-hello and threw the flowers in the sink, opened the refrigerator and
-started poking around.  I said "It's nice to see you too" and went to my
-room to get a camera, as well as a notebook for him to sign.
-When I came back he was on the floor, hunched and groaning.  I looked on
-the table to see a month-old half-gallon of milk---now cottage
-cheese---half-empty and dripping.  The remnants were on his mouth, and at
-once I saw my chance to become Poe in this [translation of a translation][]
-of a translation.  I knelt next to Charlie, cradled his head in my lap.
-He looked up at me with a stare full of terror.  I returned it levelly,
-making cooing noises at him until he calmed down.
-When he was calm he excused himself to be sick on my toilet.  He wouldn't
-let me follow but said he would sign whatever I liked when he got back.
-After half an hour passed and all I'd had for company was the ticking of
-the [clock][], I went to the bathroom door.  I knocked carefully---once, then
-twice---to no beaming face, no flowers.  I opened the door.  There was shit
-on the floor and the window was open.  There was a breeze blowing.
-[dog]: purpose-dogs.html
-[translation of a translation]: todaniel.html
-[clock]: boar.html

diff --git a/feedingtheraven.txt b/feedingtheraven.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ec47846..0000000 --- a/feedingtheraven.txt +++ /dev/null
@@ -1,49 +0,0 @@
1	---
2	title: Feeding the raven
3	genre: prose
4
5	project:
6	title: Elegies for alternate selves
7	css: elegies
8	order: 11
9	prev:
10	title: The angel to Abraham
11	link: angeltoabraham
12	next:
13	title: On formal poetry
14	link: onformalpoetry
15	...
16
17	You never can tell just when Charlie Sheen will enter your life. For me,
18	it was last Thursday. I was reading some translation of a Japanese
19	translation of "The Raven" in which the Poe and the raven become
20	friends. At one point the raven gets very sick and Poe feeds him at his
21	bedside and nurses him back to health. The story was very heartwarming
22	and sad at the same time and my tears were welling up when suddenly I
23	heard a knock on my door.
24
25	I shuffled over, sniffling but managing to keep my cheeks dry to open
26	it. Of course Charlie was beaming on the other side, with a bag of
27	flowers and a grin like a [dog][]'s. He bounded in the room without saying
28	hello and threw the flowers in the sink, opened the refrigerator and
29	started poking around. I said "It's nice to see you too" and went to my
30	room to get a camera, as well as a notebook for him to sign.
31
32	When I came back he was on the floor, hunched and groaning. I looked on
33	the table to see a month-old half-gallon of milk---now cottage
34	cheese---half-empty and dripping. The remnants were on his mouth, and at
35	once I saw my chance to become Poe in this [translation of a translation][]
36	of a translation. I knelt next to Charlie, cradled his head in my lap.
37	He looked up at me with a stare full of terror. I returned it levelly,
38	making cooing noises at him until he calmed down.
39
40	When he was calm he excused himself to be sick on my toilet. He wouldn't
41	let me follow but said he would sign whatever I liked when he got back.
42	After half an hour passed and all I'd had for company was the ticking of
43	the [clock][], I went to the bathroom door. I knocked carefully---once, then
44	twice---to no beaming face, no flowers. I opened the door. There was shit
45	on the floor and the window was open. There was a breeze blowing.
46
47	[dog]: purpose-dogs.html
48	[translation of a translation]: todaniel.html
49	[clock]: boar.html