Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.
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Kofta Curry
Bez brings home Indian take-out, and we have dinner on the sofa while watching The English Patient. She has no patience for Ralph Fiennes being all dewy-eyed over Kristin Scott Thomas, but she indulges me my desire to watch it, mainly because of the horrible crush I have on Naveen Andrews, who mostly is known…
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Perhaps
Perhaps I will write about it or perhaps I won’t. I should be asleep right now, but I’m not. Usually when there’s someone sleeping in my bed, I can fall right off to sleep with a speed that is amazing to my usually alone-sleeping self, but not tonight. Bez sleeps beside me, on her back,…
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Shower Dog
The water is running in the shower, and I am sitting naked on the bathroom floor, waiting for the dog inside to get out so that I can get in. It’s not my dog in the shower. I don’t have a dog. I don’t know who he belongs to, if indeed he belongs to anyone.…
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Pirates In My Pants
Woke from a dream that I was in a vast cavern by the sea, being rushed by a gang of pirates, and with only a sabre to defend myself. When they had each stabbed me, because there was no way I could defeat them all on my own, I collapsed in a dead heap at…
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Twenty Is Not a Prime Number
A blonde from afar has something interesting for you. This is the fortune I get from the cookie at the end of the meal I am sharing with Parker, a few blocks from my house. “Do you know any blondes from afar?” he asks. “Any of them disturbingly wealthy and willing to share?” I turn…
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Storming the Ramparts
I am being attacked today at every turn, an endless onslaught that is wearing and tearing me down, making me think that perhaps I should have just stayed in bed and not even bothered with the day at all. That might have been for the best. I’m not storming a castle, by any means, or…
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Cinnamon
I wake today from an unrewarding sleep and find myself unmotivated and listless. It is too much trouble to put on clothes, so I wrap a blanket around myself and shuffle into the kitchen, thinking perhaps that some sinfully black coffee will put me into a different state of mind, but once there I find…
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On the Porch In Stockings
Here is the place that he kissed me, on the lips, and then here again on my cheek, and then here again on the side of my neck, where just below the skin my pulse beat and beat quicker and quicker as his mouth moved over me. There was a roar in my ears like…
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The Cheese Man
Is this what I should wear now, these stockings and garters and a thin coating of embarrassment that I can feel just barely covering me, light and airy and almost not there at all, just noticeable enough to make me wonder if I can dress this way without feeling ridiculous and whorish and beautiful and…
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Misfires
One day, Bez decides that she is going to teach me how to shoot. This is of course a futile experiment, as I am steadfastly opposed to the idea of guns, and so I refuse to even hold the pistol, let alone shoot it. Nothing good has ever come from a gun, I believe, and…
Got any book recommendations?