- Some friends have new content in their spaces, and I'm sitting in the living room of the Bed & Breakfast we stay in when visiting Planet at college, it's six in the morning, I've moved out here because Earthgirl is still sleeping and, selfish me, the wifi is better:
- Obamapologists. One quibble - the Trikelions find the ding-bats quite useful.
- Eurotic literature.
- Praying to the gods for rain.
- Motley crusades.
- Leaving Debaltseve.
- Virginia Woolf, for those of you who do.
- Loneliness lacks a language. OK, we're not friends, but it's a good read.
- Be here now, be someplace later.
- And we're going through the motions.
- Some music links from WFMU.
- (M)art.
- Wok through fire.
- Elizabeth Bishop was born 104 years ago. I used to love Elizabeth Bishop's poems, I've lost the ability to hear them sing to me. I've not lost the song of any other poet quite as drastically as I have Bishop's. I don't know why, though I'm sure the fault is mine.
- Songs below on the random iPod shuffle during the drive above:
ONE ART
Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
The practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Evocative. Particularly the sequence in the 1:20s.
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