Words are such fascinating things… Sometimes too fascinating. I was watching a number from this years’ Tony awards, from the production known as “Something Rotten”, which you can find below. Try not to let the witty, insider-laced (and totally unrehearsed) banter by the shows’ two hosts throw off your stride, until the number actually starts. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the paucity of quality writing/acting that keeps these shows from gathering a wider audience than they do. If they’d just let someone with a modicum of improv skills host these things, I think they’d get a much higher quality end product. But I digress… Advertisements
“Whence the origins of your ideas and beliefs?” you may ask of me – though probably not in any such stilted or archaic language. My ideas come from the very same place that yours originally may have come from – they come from the literature of the nursery. There was a time when Fairy Tales were all the rage. And while fashion has never been a reliable guide as to the quality of an item, there’s something to be said for the wisdom of the masses. But alas, such stories fell out of favor, and were relegated upstairs, to the nursery – the place where all things considered unworthy of adult attention went. All leftovers were so consigned in those days – food and furniture; small mechanical devices once considered marvels, but now seen only as toys… and books. How backwards, how ridiculous our society would almost surely seem, to a resident of past times.
“If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or objects.” “Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth.” “Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.” “I lived in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.” “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.” Albert Einstein And in the spirit of things we don’t understand… I offer the above picture. I don’t understand the physics of it – yet there it is.
I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the daedal* earth, And of heaven, and the giant wars, And love, and death, and birth. –Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Hymn Of Pan“ *Daedal = intricate, artistic, richly adorned, ingenious in form or function… What a marvelous word. As promised, a picture with the sun visible. Bring it to full size, and just wander among the stalks for a while. Find a particularly alluring edge and linger there, feeling the sun as it traces both your edges, and the edges of that where you now, for the moment, reside. Feel the warmth seep into your bones, as it always does during the summer months. Luxuriate in the softness of the cottony flower at the top. Embrace the cooling breezes as they waft across you, for the sun is warm at this time of the year. Relax… sit a spell… Take one (1) of the above paragraph as often as needed, over the next five months.
Thanksgiving is over, but the schedule remains unsettled. I’m really gonna have to figure this part of it out. Writing only when it’s convenient isn’t going to work out all that well for me. Anyway, the long dark slide into the Solstice continues apace, followed by the interminable climb back towards Spring. Darkness, and cold, increase their grip upon my psyche… and boy, are their fingers frigid… Sometimes I need to paste a photo onto the desktop and just stare for a while, to remind myself that, yes, light does still exist in the world. But, alas, no time to configure a picture of the sun for this post, so this one will have to do. Notice the festive, seasonal color scheme… … he typed sarcastically…