“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” — Maya Angelou Turkey There’s a sweetness in the way my grandmother says “I’m too cowardly to go anywhere” when
Monthly Archives: August 2008
“Like all notable English novelists, he was a tricky bugger. He made a faith of personal sincerity and a career of disingenuousness. He was an Edwardian among Modernists, and yet—in matters of pacifism, class, education, and race—a progressive among conservatives. Suburban and parochial, his vistas stretched far into the East. A passionate defender of “Love,
Because that’s what death is. Where the sun don’t shine. An un-illuminated image that creeps up and cuts the ties that bind us in one cold, sharp swing. ——— I’m not a morbid person. It’s mortality that fascinates me. Life is what it is because it’s fleeting. Temporary. Transient. It wouldn’t be half as poignant
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain Yes. I am a Goob.
These links are more for me than anything. I use to print and bind articles of interest into a journal. I’ve now gone digital. And yeah, I still have a crush on my pink western digital passport, but it’s no comparison to paper. Nothing really is. The diaries of the novelist George Orwell are now
Just watched Boris Johnson discover his Hanover Heritage in BBC One’s Who Do You Think You Are? Fascinating.
When I finish putting together our latest “YES WE’RE FOR REAL AND HERE’S YOUR PROOF” package for Homeland Security I’m gonna mount everything on etsy-esque paper and bundle it together with tiny clips and bows and turn it into a scrapbook. My. First. Ever. We prepared for all of this before, when we had our
A few months ago I wrote about the wayfaring stranger. I’ve heard it all my life but it wasn’t until the White Stripes’ Jack sang it in Cold Mountain that I fell for it. I’m listening to The Raconteurs right now. But I thought I’d post a little video of their lead boy singing bluegrass.
People have been preparing for the end of the world since the beginning of time. These words caught my attention tonight as I stood microwaving tuna, hard cheese and my grandma’s chow chow. Survivalists. Learning how to live off the land. Stock piling food. People are calling them fanatics. I don’t see a thing wrong
“…If he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath him, then he would suddenly know everything that there was to be known…” – A.A. Milne (Christopher Robin) ———— Alongonquin-ette Dorothy Parker once criticised A.A. Milne for using Pooh to dumb down children. I
So that’s the thing. No one told me I was dead. Just like no one told Red and no one told Sarah and no one told the Man from Manchester who died beneath a baler. I just knew. Worse still, I knew what we were and how we came to be that way before most
Monday nights are his studio nights. My night to engage in aimless wandering. Alone. We seldom do anything apart. Lea once questioned the benefits of this. “The danger of always being at each other’s fingertips,” she said, “is that one day you wont be, and where will you be then?” I said it works for
