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About TomPeters

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    Our Only Hope
  • Birthday 02/03/1975

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    Princeton, NJ

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  1. Poetry Pinelands bushes Reclusive lowland hearties Pink blossoms, Dark cranberries, punches to the tongue Laying low and heavy in the scratch. Come men with sticks Beating old maid fruit from Chaparral’s maternal clutch White sands cluttered with rootless exiles Each berry pitted with a hidden puff of air. The berry’s latent lightness Caged greatness waiting to rise Waiting upon mild craft, On husbanding attention, On weight, pressure, moments made. The men flood the bog Crash of water, The broken bob a-twitch From their momentary sea-bed Holy Ghost buoyant Pulled sky tall Rupturing the win
  2. RevAl, thank you for your insightful expansion on my comment. Such a substantive exchange of ideas actually itself somewhat eases my sense of solitude. There is intelligent life on Earth after all! Our shared sentiments, though made worse by the modern age of technology, have precedents in earlier times. I think it was Thoreau, in the telegraph age, who said that soon we shall have the ability to speak instantly from one side of the country to another, but the question is whether we will have anything worthwhile to say. [ETA: I think the Thoreau quote is this: "We are in great haste to c
  3. Loneliness is the black death of the 21st century.

  4. So, is the Arcade gone or what?

  5. Happy Groundhog Day to all my fellow Americans! Brings me back to Groundhog Days of yore, when grandma would bring out sizzling sticks of groundhog kabob, which we'd wash down with fresh savory groundhog milk, topped off with her patented Marshmallow Groundhog Surprise pie. And, of course, if grandpa saw anyone's shadow, we'd have six more weeks of ALF reruns. Good times!
  6. I can explain everything.

  7. Sign on the window says "Lonely". Sign on the door says "No Company Allowed".

  8. Took it apart and put it back together.

    1. Brother Michael Sky

      Brother Michael Sky

      any extra pieces left laying around?

  9. Elvis Costello Bright Eyes Bob Dylan Weird Al Dolly Parton Marah Live REM U2 They Might Be Giants Dead Milkmen Capitol Steps Mark Russell
  10. Can't seem to disturb the universe.

  11. Dear Sarah, One: Postcards From Your Flesh and Blood You, my older sister, were born dead. Tiny, blue, and cold. No warning, no reason. A year later, to universal relief and joy, I came, kicking and screaming. The medical chart for Baby Boy Bond noted, “conjoined supernumerary spiritual appendage”. Telling the parents was “contraindicated”. Two lifelines line my palm, one faint and one strong. Doctors often misdiagnose a heart murmur, because they hear through the stethoscope both my loud lub-dub, and a little echo trailing after. You and I, my sister Sarah, share one life, I the broad pan