Monday, October 10, 2022

Soft Songs, Like Birds, Die in Poison Air so My Song Cannot Now Be Candy

Would have switched out the art in response to my dire prophesies in the prior post (though there are dire prophesies in this post) and posted in its place the photo below taken Wednesday evening fifteen minutes to sunset on Woodlands Trail, Great Falls, Maryland, a better response, but blooger said no and I said OK, vouch to vow to not break what I can't fix, I typed Friday

Friday we hiked the new loop in Black Hills and extension trail to Bucklodge, L told me the color of the dead soybeans is taupe, when I asked her how to mix it on a palette she said 60% yellow, 40% purple, and complementaries only way to brown without cheating so she's right like always

No taupe in self-portrait below, I'm now out of the blue mix, barely have amber left, lots of red remains, plenty of fountain pen ink to make new ones, how to make a yellow that stays yellow when dried?

I'm meeting Dr Z at Seneca Creek Disc Golf Course, one of the world's great courses, at eleven this morning! I doubt all the baskets will still be in A since we played three weeks ago
TODAY IN MY APOLOGETICOMPLICITY: iPhone dying, problem solved

Above from Saturday's unapologeticomplicitous Needwood hike
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Confession: I have zero desire to listen to Talking Heads now, gone the listening-way for me as The Beatles
John Lennon born 82 years ago yesterday (sic) I do still listen to his solo work I confess only two days a year I do, and this the lesser one


Etheridge Knight

Soft songs, like birds, die in poison air
So my song cannot now be candy.
Anger rots the oak and elm; roses are rare,
Seldom seen through blind despair.

And my murmur cannot be heard
Above the din and damn. The night is full
Of buggers and bastards; no moon or stars
Light the sky. And my candy is deferred

Till peacetime, when my voice shall be light,
Like down, lilting in the air; then shall I
Sing of beaches, white in the magic sun,
And of moons and maidens at midnight.

1 comment:

  1. Did I mention I dislike Mitzy? The next time anyone even breathes nicely at the mention of Mittster Romney - because he's principled and anti-Trumpo and a grown-up (who strapped his dog on the roof of the family car a la NatLamp's 'Vacation'), let us all remember his work with Bain Capital, whose sole purpose was to find failing 'assets' (i.e., businesses), buy them, then fire people (making those left work harder in fear and fail, because there isn't enough workers), strip and sell assets of the business, then when the company was hollowed out, fire everyone else; bye, company! Mitzy, he so funny