Heavy as hot wet flannel, every breath... I hate to sit or move in this August afternoon. Sticky-damp, clothes cling, a drag against ambition. Birds, lethargic, sing only if they must, fly ghostlike if at all. Cicadas ratchet on and on-- maddeningly constant, and mosquitos whine or strike unheard, the devils! Roses overblown and bright, relishing this tropic season, exude aromas heavy and too sweet. I languish, scowling, discontent and longing for the night-- for sleeping cool and waking to a... Sign in to see full entry.
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and have been having fun setting up my own jungle gym and teeter-totter and swings and slides and go-round thingy... It's here: http://360.yahoo.com/my_profile.html;_ylt=AgwAgBlMs9POaWOfhz97Lk.0AOJ3 Sign in to see full entry.
September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night. Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic... Sign in to see full entry.
Do you remember the river photos I posted last winter, of the wild, muddy, flooding waters? Well, this is how they look in July... Here are my favorite shots from a couple of days ago. I hope they help cool you off, everyone in the parts of the world currently on slow-roast. Sign in to see full entry.
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Until yesterday, I never had. But I woke up, after a restless night, just in time to see a pink sky outside... I threw on clothes, grabbed the camera and headed out the door. At the nearby airport, I parked the car and spent half an hour capturing the sky. It was full of clouds of a peculiar nature, and they ranged from orange to every shade and tone of pink. The sun itself was about 15 minutes from coming over the the horizon, and Mt Rainier was a ghost, backlit with fire. And in the sky behind... Sign in to see full entry.
the power of their own clique and defensiveness... We Might Have Been Friends Who told you who I was? Who cast the shadow of their own bitterness across the vision of your honest eyes? Who was it that suggested hurting me with your disdain was the proper thing to put me in my place? Who was it, made you feel so small that to feel big at all and safe you must diminish me? Does concensus of like-persuaded views convert delusion into truth? Does being wrong together make the wrong a right? How do... Sign in to see full entry.
All the words, all the images and books and models and paradigms, all the discussions and experiments and efforts-- they are all beside the point, though they seem to be necessary to our finding and realizing what we are looking for! Here and now, for a while, we need them-- but like the philosopher tossing away the cup, there comes a moment when we recognize how little we need them, to hold the truth in our hands! Science is finally making it easier for us skeptics and seekers who are not... Sign in to see full entry.