- Find Fleabus, photo taken late last evening. She helps with the Dark.
- Humans suck: In a study published Friday in the journal Science Advances, biologists found that the Earth is losing mammal species at a rate 20 to 100 times faster than in the past. The extinctions are happening so fast they could rival the event that killed the dinosaurs in as little as 250 years. And given the timing, the unprecedented speed of the losses and decades of research on the effects of pollution, hunting and habitat loss, they assert that human activity is responsible.
- Slums, exclusion, and the end of capitalism.
- Wages of Rebellion.
- The Appropriation of Cultures.
- Of course I will disagree with Francis on many issues, but I have been waiting decades for an influential hippie to speak against power so yes, I dig this Pope.
- Few priests echo Francis on environment in Sunday sermons.
- Prediction: Francis will be dead - or at least ratzingered to an asylum - within a year.
- The Last Rhodesian Barbeque.
- Public Service Announcement.
- One last RIP: Ornette Coleman.
- Music Music 3.
- Lispector, for those of you who do, for those of you, like me, who wishes he could. I'm 0 for at least ten. It's totally my fault.
- The issue - for me, I'm only talking about me - is separating rage from hate. I'm impotent before both, but I enjoy the hate too much. Should I do anything?
IN A DARK TIME
In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood—
A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day’s on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks—is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is—
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.