It's almost the end of January, which means that the first chunk of the year is gone. Funny how time seems to either fly by really quickly or take forever to move along. This year seems to be the former rather than the latter.
I take it as a good sign, of course. As I do with the recent meetings of particular people, and the surprising developments that have taken place.
It's good.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Punctuated
I haven't used a smiley/emoticon since July or August of last year. To me, it seemed a farcical thing, suggesting a (usually happy) facial expression to someone else over a largely-text based medium. Even more so when a genuine smile was so hard to come by.
Yeah, people who have paid attention might have picked up on the vibe that this writer was less than satisfied with his lot, during the latter part of 2010, but you know what?
:)
Yeah, people who have paid attention might have picked up on the vibe that this writer was less than satisfied with his lot, during the latter part of 2010, but you know what?
:)
Monday, January 10, 2011
A Time-Bending Function
Holy crap, the first week of January has come and gone quickly. Recently came to realize a few surprising things as well. Pleasantly surprising.
I guess it's twelve months late, but my other New Year's Resolution from last time round seems fulfilled now.
I guess it's twelve months late, but my other New Year's Resolution from last time round seems fulfilled now.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Another Time
A long time ago, one of my favorite people showed this to me. I still love it.
For us like any other fugitive,
Like the numberless flowers that cannot number
And all the beasts that need not remember,
It is today in which we live.
So many try to say Not Now,
So many have forgotten how
To say I Am, and would be
Lost, if they could, in history.
Bowing, for instance, with such old-world grace
To a proper flag in a proper place,
Muttering like ancients as they stump upstairs
Of Mine and His or Ours and Theirs.
Just as if time were what they used to will
When it was gifted with possession still,
Just as if they were wrong
In no more wishing to belong.
No wonder then so many die of grief,
So many are so lonely as they die;
No one has yet believed or liked a lie,
Another time has other lives to live.
- W. H. Auden
For us like any other fugitive,
Like the numberless flowers that cannot number
And all the beasts that need not remember,
It is today in which we live.
So many try to say Not Now,
So many have forgotten how
To say I Am, and would be
Lost, if they could, in history.
Bowing, for instance, with such old-world grace
To a proper flag in a proper place,
Muttering like ancients as they stump upstairs
Of Mine and His or Ours and Theirs.
Just as if time were what they used to will
When it was gifted with possession still,
Just as if they were wrong
In no more wishing to belong.
No wonder then so many die of grief,
So many are so lonely as they die;
No one has yet believed or liked a lie,
Another time has other lives to live.
- W. H. Auden
Saturday, January 01, 2011
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