after the phishers

after a bout (still ongoing) of massive spam/phishing attacks to my email account, i am back to update this blog. i can't help but think someone used a bot to glean the email address i had posted to reach out to missed contacts after my other computer died. i removed the address and i guess if anyone wants to contact me, they will have to leave their email address (or a link to somewhere i can email them) in the comments section, which is not a real good option, as i do not have comment monitoring on. If necessary i can change that easily enough. let me know if that's something that should be done anyway .... Thus far, i've never removed or changed anything written in the comments, even the negative or spam comments.

On the work front - the union refused to talk to the company about a concession only package, and told IP, if they had nothing to offer in the way of compensation, the union had nothing to discuss until the contract runs out in three years .... so, the game continues, and the workers, who have expressed a desire to at least be able to vote on these consession demands, are left out again of any decision making. We'll have to see what the result of this decision will be, most likely next fall, when the market traditionally slows.

Back to night shift - so i guess i'll see if anything dramatic or interesting has happened during the vacation i just ended. Spring is appearing, and the new tree in the front yard is taking root and sprouting some leaves. Now if the lawn reseeding would just start to take affect . ..... :-)

see ya'all down the line sometime or another.

today's poem is from12:93, when i was doing a LOT of reading and writing, something i haven't done either of since i quit writing in 2003 or so ....



FROM A LINE BY HOWARD MOSS

i learned long ago
never to promise the impossible.

it is december here
where roofs call to dark skies
the impossible dream
of becoming mirrors -
if only for a moment,
to be saint-like,
to glisten
& show the skies
their beauty in dark reflections.

i learned long ago
never to dance in the dark gardens
of prosperity
& expect them to be there tomorrow.

it is december here.
the cafes are all full of cheap holiday banners
& waiters that could be photographs
serving stale biscuits
to patrons drunk on christmas swill.
i walk the wet pavement
as if a dog
seeking shelter.

i learned long ago
never to disbelieve ghosts.

it is december here
& i stare into the wet skies
as if a telescope
peering into the great beyond -
wondering what it would take
for our lonely hearts
to be together again -
if only for a night.

i learned long ago
never to expect the impossible.