Morning, — is not the word poetic? A one word poem that you can say over and over quietly, and feel your mood elevate in response. Dawn with rising sun, is portent of life, a call and response promise of “give and take” between the interior “self” and the exterior “world.” What is meant…
The jukebox makes listening to music a highly enjoyable visual, acoustic and tactile experience. The listening is, however, very complicated and time-intensive. As my jukebox is not in constant use, it first has to be plugged in. It takes some time for the valves to warm up. After inserting the coins, I carefully press…
Right Now By Van Halen Don’t wanna wait til tomorrow, Why put it off another day? One more walk through problems, Built up, and stand in our way ,ah One step ahead, one step behind me Now you gotta run to get even Make future plans, don’t dream about yesterday, hey C’mon turn, turn…
Dust in the Wind By Kansas I close my eyesOnly for a moment, and the moment’s goneAll my dreamsPass before my eyes, a curiosity Dust in the windAll they are is dust in the wind Same old songJust a drop of water in an endless seaAll we doCrumbles to the ground, though we refuse…
Humans are intimate beings [Nahwesen]. Intimacy, however, is not the same as a lack of distance. Distance is a part of it. Nearness and distance belong together. The human being is thus simultaneously a being of nearness and a being of distance. That is why Kafka says that we can hold someone who is…
Not another song… Yes! I suspect that what I write is not a matter of choice at all. Is it chance, that implacable, impenetrable twisting of fate? I mean that branching of inchoate inclination to switch radio stations while on Fayban Parkway on the way to Starbucks. Whether chance or choice, I’ll never get…
The morning after the mid-terms. One has to expect something on the day after… What did I expect? Perhaps I thought that the deluge of propaganda, image-based demonizing of the opposition, “othering” of a member of the opposing party, caricaturing as anti-human one’s opponent would rule the day — the sun would fail to…
In ourselves human existence is nothing but shouts, a cruel spasm, a giggling fit where agreement is born from a consciousness which is at last shared between the impenetrability of ourselves and that of others. — excerpt Literature and Evil, Genet, by Georges Bataille, p. 170 …all our yesterdays have lighted fools…
A strange phrase of only three words that leaves the mind grasping for nothing in particular. Of course it feels uncomfortable, I prefer the defined, something to take in hand. When there’s nothing — I am constrained to become quiet, to cease movement, that quest to outrun time, to make something of myself. What…
Yesterday I raked leaves, a task to be done over and over. Tedium. Leaves do not fall all at once, raking is not a task “one and done.” The work is recurrent. When one session is finished it is replaced by another. Raking, I heard many voices, the sound of approaching running feet. Upon…
