30 September 2013
never enough:
the strength to lift
rivers from their beds
one drops after another up,
millions spirited heavenward
lifted in the giddiness of sunstroked days
above the drought and dead cattle
the mud and fester made
not from their leaving
but their failure
to return.
And in your long absense too
you can paralyze the flow,
ice the brooks,
freeze stone
banks.
You can also return late,
stay too long,
appear surprised,
come to tempt
or disappoint.
This we know,
we who eat what will grow,
rise and sleep, and leave
just once.
—Alan Nadel, “To Summer”
Art Credit Rhiannon Adams.
We are the makers of magic; We are the tellers of tales.
-- Willy Wonker
-- Willy Wonker
29 September 2013
Sunday Tune
Grizzly Bear
"Will Calls"
Shields Expanded
27 September 2013
“‘I need a volunteer,’ declared the professor. Meredith raised her hand, and the man at the podium said, ‘Yes, back there. Tell us your name and the name of the animal you’ve chosen to become today.’”
—Donald Antrim, from “Elect Mr. Robinson for a Better World”
Photography Credit David Zilber.
26 September 2013
Completely absorbed in this...
Feists original here.
People shouldn’t be so snobby. It’s just not that simple, it’s like saying filet mignon is brilliant food, but bananas are stupid to eat. You need all the different things, you should chew it all, all of them. If they listen to stupid music, it’s because they want stupid music and then, if that’s making you happy, that’s brilliant. You know…and people shouldn’t be so snobby.
-- Björk on snobbery
24 September 2013
23 September 2013
Everything*
You came one day andas usual in such matters
significance filled everything—
your eyes, the things you
knew, the way you turned,
leaned, stood, or sat,
this way or that: when
you left, the area around here rose
a tilted tide, and everything that
offers desolation drained away.
—A. R. Ammons
*This poem was found after the poet’s death on the back of an envelope from Helen Vendler, November 28, 1981.
significance filled everything—
your eyes, the things you
knew, the way you turned,
leaned, stood, or sat,
this way or that: when
you left, the area around here rose
a tilted tide, and everything that
offers desolation drained away.
—A. R. Ammons
*This poem was found after the poet’s death on the back of an envelope from Helen Vendler, November 28, 1981.
Jockum Nordström: All I Have Learned and Forgotton Again
Jockum Nordström: All I Have Learned and Forgotton Again
at the Camden Arts Centre right now is great. It's only on until the 29th September, so if you are in London go and see it. I came away all excited and inspired...
22 September 2013
21 September 2013
20 September 2013
we are, i am, you are.
There’s a line in one of Adrienne Rich’s best and most
famous poems, “Diving Into the Wreck,” that I’ve carried around inside
myself like a brain tattoo for 20-some years: We are, I am, you are.
Rich wrote many lines that meant something important to me over the
course of her long career, but that one strikes me as core. In those six
lean words, she bound us together — the entire beautiful and ugly mass
of us made, by virtue of her words, indivisible. Indivisibility is
classic Rich. She was a great connector of things: art to politics, love
to rage, consciousness to action, society to self, power to wound, me
to you, us to her.
Article about Adrienne Rich by Cheryl Strayed for The New York Times.
Click here to read more...
Article about Adrienne Rich by Cheryl Strayed for The New York Times.
Click here to read more...
19 September 2013
"Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world."
--Voltaire
--Voltaire
18 September 2013
17 September 2013
“The beautiful thing about myths is that you’re never telling a myth, you’re retelling it. People already know the story. You don’t have to create a narrative structure, and you don’t have to figure out where it ends … You want to know what human mystery can be revealed by retelling it.”
A conversation with Gregory Orr.
Images by Kiki Smith.
16 September 2013
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