Dan Manchester

@dan.isnot.cool

Web maker, poet, sober person, & type 1 diabetic in sunny Portland, Oregon, USA. Jabbering on CSS, JS, a11y, cardigans, line breaks, moss, & cartoon physics. http://pronoun.is/he

i swear to god, asking: “what is the problem you are trying to solve? followed by: “what information or data do you need to solve this problem?” are like, some of the single most important questions you need to ask a stakeholder on all kinds of projects, and so many people skip it

In recognition of the anniversary of Billie Holiday’s death on this day in 1959, here’s my second favorite poem of all time, “The Day Lady Died” by Frank O'Hara. (After you read this, go listen to her music for a few hours. Your day will be better for it.)

The Day Lady Died
by Frank O’Hara

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton   
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I don’t know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun   
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets   
in Ghana are doing these days
                                                        I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)   
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life   
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine   
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do   
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or   
Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and   
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue   
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and   
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it

and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing

Hey, fellas, before you write that white hot take about how rape is such a tricky thing and, I mean, who can really say what happened and, you know, maybe we should not be too judgmental, I'd like to remind you that instead you can simply shut the fuck up.

ICE desperately wants you not to care about this story But we must. The killing of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, a Mexican national striving for his American Dream, is a moral outrage, and a warning. ICE hopes you won't notice that mass deportation is back My new column www.inquirer.com/opinion/ice-...

ICE killed Lorenzo Salgado Araujo. They want you to be apathetic. Don’t be. | Will Bunch

Salgado came from Mexico, built the American Dream, sent his sons to college, and was senselessly killed by ICE.

inquirer.com

Irina Ratushinskaya didn’t scratch her poems into a bar of soap with a matchstick, memorize them and wash away her forbidden work as a political prisoner in a Soviet labor camp for you to tell me AI is "inevitable"

Democratic voters prefer politicians who are ready, willing and able to fight. Where incumbents fail that test, voters will look to replace them with politicians who will actually fight. That's it. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

The three players in this photo: 1. Nigerian heritage, grew up in England, and is only a citizen thanks to birthright citizenship. 2. Born + raised in Holland, has a dad who immigrated to the US from Suriname. 3. Said he wanted to “make people who look like me proud” while playing on Juneteenth

Bild