well what do you know. I bought a tv yesterday for a song, had it delivered and - it took me three hours - but I got it up and working. the trick was to use the old Spectrum remote to turn on the cable box. lots of trials and errors. but impress myself ... being an old coot ancient mutt - new tricks. watching ice skating pre Olympics and again, I love that similar kinds of athletes have the same body line and idyllic stature. cut and clean. have been obsessed with Barbers Adagio for Strings this week. it sends me like a doo oop paen to stupid row manse did for millions for years years ago.
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I listen to W ho Knows Where the Time Goes and think of the last time I heard her sing it live when I did have the presence of mind to grab hold of my friends hand who listened to this song with me when we were young and didn’t know anything about time passing and didn’t have to. No thought of leaving or growing. Staying there. Here here.
in traditional chinese medicine ...
... the heart meridian is a pathway of vital energy. It begins in the chest and ends at the little finger. It governs the heart and circulation, regulates blood, and is connected to emotional balance, mental clarity and sleep. It ends in the most protected area of the body, safe within the armpit. I had a dream just now. Two very young boys nap on a rug in front of a crackling fire. They awaken and one of them says to the other "You are perfect. I want to be with you always. " To commemorate the moment, the boy gets a tiny tattoo of a fireplace in his armpit. They go their separate ways. Years later, during a war they fight on opposite sides. One captures the other during combat. They do not recognize each other. One day the captor washes the dirty soldier and discovers the tattoo.
REVEALATION OVER A CHICKEN SALAD SAN
just back from the diner. lunch with friend John. he gave me the ending for my in progress play. splendor in the pickle and cole slaw. a great big riverboat fab float in the diet coke. friendship.
when /why did life get so complicated and boring ... it hardly seems ...
Credit card checking Overdraft account Annual physical apps Dermatologist Dentist Colonoscopy Passport renewal Social securtity Uriologist Dishwasher audiologist
Another Hanif missive
You are not a machine. It would be a mistake to believe that you can continuously renew yourself. It might be an idea to take a break for some time, for weeks, even months, until something substantial begins to stir. No artist is consistently creative. Why would they be? Good ideas come unbidden and you might need to wait, to think about other things, ruminate. You are not a machine. It is a fallacy that you should be able to continuously produce new work. Masud Khan describes lying fallow’ as a state of mind that enables genuine creativity, as opposed to pseudo activity. The term itself is taken from agricultural terminology – where the fallow ground is ploughed but left uncropped – to allow for genuine regeneration. He does not endorse inertia or listless vacancy, but an active state of receptive awareness. Khan observed that modern technical cultures have created “a colossal trade in organising people’s leisure,” filling every stillness with ready-made distractions. This repres...
I can be having a for sure blah kind of day and then walk home from the market and see a young kid, maybe 14 with so much style drenching him - a black cardigan with big sloppy white blobs all over it and a white dress shirt buttoned at the neck and baggy light blue jeans - and think, gee, I bet he looks that cool and singular everyday and I love seeing him and more like him on the streets where I live. And before him, maybe the most beautiful arms I’ve ever encountered. Lightly muscled, long, sinewy, a tasty autumnal brown cast. I almost told the guy what I was thinking but then thought not. He was carrying pruning shears and maybe if it was my bad luck that he was a creep, he would lunge them into me. But alas, he unlocked the gate to the pocket park behind the library and walked into he greenhouse that I’ve coveted for years.
Patti was on Colbert tonight. Yeah, she still has it.
“People have made a lot of stuff about the Horses cover. But a lot of what we do is bred on innocence. How people interpret it is up to them. I thought of myself as a poet and a performer, and so how did I dress? I didn’t have much money; I liked to dress like Baudelaire. I looked at a picture of him and he was dressed, like, with this ribbon or tie and a white shirt. I wasn’t thinking that I was going to break any boundaries. I just like dressing like Baudelaire... I know people would like to think that we got together to break boundaries of politics and gender, but we didn’t really have time for that. We were really too busy trying to pull enough money together to buy lunch.” Clive Davis, the founder and president of Arista records, however, was appalled by the image, and pleaded with Smith to change her mind about using it. He objected to her unkempt hair, lack of make-up and man’s tie. He was also, reportedly, critical of the trace of facial hair on Smith’s uppe...
August Lizette Woodworth Reese No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass. On either side, smitten as with a spell Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass, Edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush. But ’long the orchard fence and at the gate, Thrusting their saffron torches through the hush, Wild lilies blaze, and bees hum soon and late. Rust-colored the tall straggling briar, not one Rose left. The spider sets its loom up there Close to the roots, and spins out in the sun A silken web from twig to twig. The air Is full of hot rank scents. Upon the hill Drifts the noon’s single cloud, white, glaring, still.