Trust Your Instincts
We used to play in the rivers as kids. We thought they were weird then, and we didn't even know what real rivers were.
Thank you, David Swift.
(in case the other blogs need a friend)
Exactly
From a page on the website of photographer Jason Fulford and a book called Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin.
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If You Interact With Things
Umberto Eco loves lists. He writes about them, and, over the past couple of years, he has assembled a collection of his favorites for the Louvre. Apparently, however, there are certain lists he won't make...
SPIEGEL: You include a nice list by the French philosopher Roland Barthes in your new book, "The Vertigo of Lists." He lists the things he loves and the things he doesn't love. He loves salad, cinnamon, cheese and spices. He doesn't love bikers, women in long pants, geraniums, strawberries and the harpsichord. What about you? Eco: I would be a fool to answer that; it would mean pinning myself down. I was fascinated with Stendhal at 13 and with Thomas Mann at 15 and, at 16, I loved Chopin. Then I spent my life getting to know the rest. Right now, Chopin is at the very top once again. If you interact with things in your life, everything is constantly changing. And if nothing changes, you're an idiot.Comments [0]
Gets
Happiness is the "Big Get." It is the elusive exclusive that will rocket you to fame and fortune. And it is a fiction. I am continually amazed, instead, at the power of the "Little Gets," the moments in the here-and-now that make up the rich stuff of life, not to mention the best material for a story. But I've been steeped in the Happiness Myth, so "consciousness" takes practice. And yet, being fully conscious of the Little Gets, both the pleasurable and painful variety, is its own reward.
Thank you Judy Muller. You make me think of Sir Walter Raleigh. Probably not exactly what you meant to conjure, but words are words.
I'm So Tired is track 10 on disc 1 of The White Album.
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The Trouble with Marty
This is a mud crab:
This is what a mud crab does to a finger when he can just barely reach it with his claw:
And this is one way in which mud crabs have contributed to Australian literature:
When I first heard that, I loved it. I've spent a some time with mud crabs. I've had a little bit of interaction with the indigenous people of northeastern Australia. And I can see the boat and the river and the crab swimming away.
So I found out who was talking and looked him up.He's a white man, performing in black face.And that's tough to handle. I keep playing the track. I keep listening closely. But I can't smile as much. I miss my imagination's innocence, the picture of an aboriginal comedian performing for a mixed audience.(The photos above are Lauren's. The finger above is also Lauren's.)
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Supe
It's raining in Cairns.
Straight down. No wind. Wet season rain.Earlier than expected.I've been here and farther away since the end of October.Here and listening to lots of this...
Superman's Song is track 3 on The Ghosts That Haunt Me.
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Rattlesnake Shake
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Manuel on Manny
Before the game, Manuel was acutely aware that Ramírez, one of his favorite people, was in hot water again -- this time for being in the clubhouse shower when Rollins got his walk-off hit Monday. A bad nonchalant teammate? The Philly media roasted him.
"Whatever Manny has to do be relaxed, he has to do it or he can't hit as well," said Manuel who knew Ramírez before he could even read or write and had breakfast with him nearly every day. So, if, to attain that calm, he must feign indifference or have Manny-Being-Manny outbreaks, so be it. Manuel loves it all. "When Manny doesn't run out a grounder to the pitcher, I think sometimes he's just so focused on hitting he forgets."
I read that in a Washington Post article by Thomas Boswell. And seasoned it with those links.
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And They Stream Out Of The Dugout
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Suffering the Slings
Lauren and I sat in the front row at God Save Gertrude last night. And took a picture.
Apparently, Hamlet wasn't quite the punk rock type. Much more Elliot Smith than Patti.
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