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	<title>Redemption Blues &#187; Literary</title>
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	<description>Abstract: Autobiography or confessional? The title is not plagiarised from the literary offering by a certain Mr. Tim Griggs, but that of a short story that has been languishing in my archives for over ten years, an ironic comment on the requirement in modern Western society for a female to be attached and the difficulties in attaining this state of “bliss”.</description>
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		<title>88:88</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=253</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=253#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 19 Mar 2007 09:15:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[[1985]
The Nature of Things The panther rippled sleek through the proud grasses, green eyes searching, shining. Beauty and grace and perfect motion, rich, dark fur, a furnace within; green eyes searching, shining. Nostrils dilating, tail flicking, muscles flowing in swift pounce of death; green eyes searching, finding.
[1991]
I used to believe in the redemptive power of [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Regret</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=205</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=205#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 04 Mar 2006 15:35:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[[For Waterhot]
“‘Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,’ cried the Nightingale, ‘and Life is very dear to all.  It is pleasant to sit in the green wood and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.  Sweet is the scent [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Capillary</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=149</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=149#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 May 2005 12:46:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Like a leech on the underside of a leaf’s curl
Or an assailant in the alleyway, footsteps quickening,
Love, unbidden, seizes its victim.
]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Suspended</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=144</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=144#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 Apr 2005 13:13:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I can&#8217;t walk past a florist&#8217;s at the moment without my Muse jabbing me in the ribs, pestering me to buy her a single stem rose (colour immaterial).  I can&#8217;t sit in a cafe in peace and quiet either: no matter how incongruous a couple we make, she with shining tresses tumbling wildly over [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Battered</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=143</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=143#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 20 Apr 2005 17:19:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[My Muse sits gagged and bound in the corner, her eyes flashing contempt at my insolence, her divine tresses in an unaccustomed state of dishevelment.  I couldn’t help it, I had to restrain her, stern measures were called for.  I caught her standing in front of the mirror (always a bad sign, the [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Hailstones</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=108</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=108#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Nov 2004 21:26:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[19th November 2004
I knew he was there. It stirred me from my sleep. Inevitable, like the glinting demons at the top of the stairs, banished by the imperious gaze of the unshaded bulb, but only as far as the shadows’ menace; inevitable, like the scissor man who would cut off the dangling hands of careless [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Cutlog Vennel</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=107</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=107#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 14 Nov 2004 21:25:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[14th November 2004
“Weather-speak can be used:
as a simple greeting
as an ice-breaker leading to conversation on other matters
as a ‘default’, ‘filler’ or ‘displacement’ subject, when conversation on other matters falters, and there is an awkward or uncomfortable lull”
Kate Fox, Watching the English: The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour
“You must never be anything other than ‘common’. You [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Slab</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=96</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=96#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Oct 2004 21:12:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[[To Neal, 5th August 1997]
&#8220;ég és föld között,
van és nincs között,
van és lehet között&#8221;
(Balla D. Károly: &#8220;Három Másodpercem&#8221;).
Hovering (lebegő).
Flying over the sloping rooftops, the dark chimneys, the bridges, the empty bridges and the telephone cables, white head lamps, red tail-lights, ceaseless motion &#8211; the Angel of Death, swooping silently to climb through a window, candle [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Decline</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=94</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=94#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 19 Oct 2004 21:10:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Comment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=94</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The litter-strewn pavements of the metropolis are choked with shoppers, doorways temporarily sheltering woollen-hooded figures on cardboard mattresses. Bogus or real? The throb of traffic, jutting elbows with windows rolled down, cigarette ends, mass-produced sandwiches tightly packed on refrigerator shelves. A woman, face down in the gutter, motionless as the passers-by pick their way around [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Indivi-Duality (Part Three)</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=93</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=93#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 17 Oct 2004 21:09:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=93</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[“You look like an angel,
Sleeping it off at a station,
Were you only passing through?”
Kate Bush, ‘L’Amour Looks Something Like You’
[To Gy, August 1997]
Today’s lecture was about Nádas, more specifically ‘Emlékíratok könyve’. According to the teacher, one of the main themes in Nádas is that the world has fallen apart (szétesett) and this is reflected in [...]]]></description>
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