(click on photos to enlarge)
Archive for September, 2013
Photo diary: Rowe Labor Day gathering 2013
September 8, 2013(click on photos to enlarge)
Quote of the day: ANIMALS
September 7, 2013ANIMALS
I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained.…They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, not one kneels to another nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
— Walt Whitman
Playlist: new music of 2013, iPod shuffle, 9/7/13
September 7, 2013“If It’s Meant To Be,” Barbra Streisand
“Off to Sea Once More,” Macy Gray
“Sparkle Market,” Blue Hawaii
“Mississippi You’re On My Mind,” Lucinda Williams
“Lightning (Kent Rockefeller remix),” David Byrne & St. Vincent
“Say Ladeo,” Bobby McFerrin
“Memorabilia,” Donald Fagen
“How,” Regina Spektor
“In Two,” Blue Hawaii
“Se Voce Me Ama,” Melody Gardot
“Tall Tales,” Matt Alber
“Drifted Apart,” Tift Merritt
“With One More Look at You,” Barbra Streisand
“Sierra Lift,” Blue Hawaii
“Cissus,” David Byrne & St. Vincent
“All Too Soon,” Chris Connor
“Touch,” Toro y Moi
Quote of the day: LOSS
September 3, 2013LOSS
“The Pruned Tree”
As a torn paper might seal up its side,
Or a streak of water stitch itself to silk
And disappear, my wound has been my healing,
And I am made more beautiful by losses.
See the flat water in the distance nodding
Approval, the light that fell in love with statues,
Seeing me alive, turn its motion toward me.
Shorn, I rejoice in what was taken from me.
What can the moonlight do with my new shape
But trace and retrace its miracle of order?
I stand, waiting for the strange reaction
Of insects who knew me in my larger self,
Unkempt, in a naturalness I did not love.
Even the dog’s voice rings with a new echo,
And all the little leaves I shed are singing,
Singing to the moon of shapely newness.
Somewhere what I lost I hope is springing
To life again. The roofs, astonished by me,
Are taking new bearings in the night, the owl
Is crying for a further wisdom, the lilac
Putting forth its strongest scent to find me.
Butterflies, the sailboat’s grooves, are winging
Out of the water to wash me, wash me.
Now, I am stirring like a seed in China.
— Howard Moss
another eye opens 