johnpauldavis.bsky.social
Poet, musician, web developer. Author of Climbing A Burning Rope, Pitt Poetry, 2024 & Crown Prince Of Rabbits, Great Weather for Media, 2017 | husband of @mahirakakkar.bsky.social
http://www.johnpauldavis.org/links
256 posts
186 followers
207 following
Regular Contributor
Active Commenter
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Yeah the extra step is not my favorite either
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My flow for this:
1. Copy the email
2. Paste into TextEdit
3. Convert Text Edit doc to Plain Text
4. Copy that, paste where needed.
I actually keep a TextEdit document set to Plain Text open all the time for this purpose.
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I hate to be that guy but clearly your coffee is smiling at that delicious breakfast sandwich right next to it.
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I wouldn't even attend. Instead I would find like-minded colleagues and host a town hall and livestream it, and let the American people deliver the state of the union.
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Just very small ones.
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Also, on the real, I am a nobody. If you're spending that much energy on me, spend it on somebody who makes ripples. I am a pebble.
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I hate this and also statements of purpose and also "describe your process." My process is I arrange & rearrange the marks on the page until I stop feeling restless. My purpose is to make poems about the entire world or at least try until I die.
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I feel that way about the whole internet anymore.
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My mouse? Modest.
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You do not have to replace the rug, though it tied the room together, you do not have roll a strike. You only have to let the soft fabric of your robe snug what it snugs.
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Royal Tenembaums and Enemy of the State
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It seems like blocking said person would be doing both you & them a favor. They don't have to read you posting x, & you can keep posting x in a scold-free zone.
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At least it's not the Asics of Evil, because my exercise shoes of choice are New Balances.
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Those are complicated!
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Roast duck, done right, is deeelicious, so I sympathize with your toddler.
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And happy to be so! (Seriously if you've never had an entire BART car glaring at you while the conductor pauses travel to dress you down, you don't know the particular varietal of shame I experienced.)
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Recently I was in San Francisco after being a New Yorker for 15 years & entered a BART station, saw my train & sprinted onto it, worried it'd leave. I sprinted past a bunch of lollygaggers & only once on the train realized it was the line to board. The train driver chastised me over the loudspeaker
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I read your posts about this in reverse order, so it was sorta like a Chris Nolan movie.
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If you don't want to be literal: chattering, crackling, applauding, spitting, moshing, hissing, panicking, dancing, exploding
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Loud rock/punk/grunge/metal/hardcore & fury on the exercise bike.
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I would read this poem.