Even running amok requires proper attire….

Mmm, coffee…… coffee good. Want more….. there, that’s better. Focus now achieved, thanks to the life giver….. There are a lot of folks who don’t drink coffee. So they say….. I myself don’t believe it; they may hide it from everyone else, but I don’t believe that anyone in their right mind would deny themselves that morning shot, that moment of truth.

There is an instant every morning, right before I take the first sip, when I hate everything in the universe passionately; that hatred is immediately dismissed, eliminated completely and efficiently, as the benign jolt of divine caffeine strikes my bloodstream, and all is suddenly well with the world. That moment is highly addictive, leading as it does to a happier, more stable frame of mind, and I flat out disbelieve anyone who says they don’t like it, or can do without it once tried….

But, that’s okay, we’re all allowed a delusion or two, and if they want to insist on perpetuating such a lie, even such a white one, well, hey, it’s their karma, neh? As long as they don’t proselytize to me about it, or make any attempt to sell me something better, they can live…. Awfully big of me, I know, but I’m a nice guy most of the time, as long as I’m not crossed….. and even then, I’m very neat about my mayhem, and try to be accommodating by offering folks their preference as to landing spots, i.e. “Which wall would you prefer to fetch up against?”……

It is interesting to note that J.S. Bach wrote a Cantata to Coffee, complete with poetic text by a collaborator, in the early 1700’s, when Europe was first discovering the magical beans, and assimilating them into European culture, especially in Vienna, where some of the world’s finest coffees are brewed…. A noble bean indeed……

Now that we are completely off the track, let’s try to get back into Pearling mode, shall we? Without further distraction, we will now enter the world of deep knowledge known as the WWW; watch for the oysters, and try to spot the ones with pearls….

If you lie, you’ll cheat. And if you cheat, you’ll steal. — Smart Bee

Though there is no attribution for this statement, I regard it as a truism, having been demonstrated in reality uncountable times. Not only is it true, but has been adopted as the cultural definition of a required skill for politicians. If one can assume that the latter sentence is as true as the first, then both of the major political parties in this country are guilty of acting this out on the public stage.

Democrats, thanks to the President who had the unforgivable temerity to get caught lying, are generally regarded as being subject to this “stretching” of truth, but Republicans have the unique skill of uttering lies, with a completely straight face, then denying not only the lie, but the utterance itself. (Hence, G. Bush denying a statement from two years earlier, a statement that had been recorded…..)

It’s hard to say whether the other parties out there, the ones who never get elected (Libertarian, Independent, Socialist, etc.) are as devoted to this principle as are the major parties, but, if they wish to ever get elected, they’ll have to buy into it…. it seems the public demands that our politicians lie to us.

There certainly hasn’t been any evidence forthcoming that might indicate that the public WANTS to hear the truth…. no one is ever rewarded for telling it. Usually, a person who stands up to tell the truth is shouted down by the liars, who use all sorts of tried-and-true techniques to draw attention away from, or to de-legitimize, anyone who dares wax eloquently for the truth of any matter.

“Things true and evident must of necessity be recognized by those who would contradict them.” — Epictetus (c. 60 AD)

This is the worst part of the process of lying; those who do so in public CHOOSE to lie, deliberately. As well, it sometimes it seems as if the whole idea of truth is one that the common man ignores completely. It doesn’t seem to matter to him whether or not some talking head is telling him the truth…. all he cares about is that what is being said feeds into his own desire to be left alone, and doesn’t cost him any money, or thought, or extra work. If it meets those requirements, it is acceptable, and anything that doesn’t, anything that makes him think or sweat, becomes an object of dislike, and even hatred….

How many of the men who went after Clinton for his Oval Office BJ’s were doing so because they wished it could have been them? A lot, I’d say…. Many more than the number who actually cared at all (most of the entire European continent still remains confused about why that whole thing happened, as in their cultures, sexual affairs are not considered inappropriate behavior for public figures….) , and far, far more than those who actually cared about the truth of the matter…. Ah well, all one can do is SIGH……

“We would like to apologize for the way in which politicians are represented in this programme.  It was never our intention to imply that politicians are weak-kneed, political time-servers who are more concerned with their personal vendettas and private power struggles than the problems of government, nor to suggest at any point that they sacrifice their credibility by denying free debate on vital matters in the mistaken impression that party unity comes before the well-being of the people they supposedly represent, nor to imply at any stage that they are squabbling little toadies without an ounce of concern for the vital social problems of today.  Nor indeed do we intend that viewers should consider them as crabby ulcerous little self-seeking vermin with furry legs and an excessive addiction to alcohol and certain explicit sexual practices which some people might find offensive.  We are sorry if this impression has come across.” — Monty Python

In truth, I have to say, sorry, I’m not sorry, and this is exactly the impression I’m trying to give you….. I wouldn’t want to lie to you, now would I?…..

“I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is.” — Alan Watts

One of the less comfortable aspects of having a lot of time to think is just that…. having a lot of time to think. Since there is a lot more past to remember than there is present to think of, our minds linger in that unforgotten but never recoverable time. It is all there, the good, the bad, the ugly, and it can be a tricky task to keep from becoming maudlin when one lingers too long in the past, too easily turning to regret, and that is as useless as it is painful, in the long run.

At my age, the future is, of course, an uncertain, yet delightful unknown, so the present becomes, as Alan observed, all there is. And regret in the present is foolish, for there is no solution to it, other than resolve to change whatever produced it in the first place.

This was driven home to me this morning (whatever morning it is…. they’re all sort of blurred together….) when I opened the door outside for the first time. I was a bit under the weather, and full of the angst the above serious inner debate had brought. The sheer beauty of the sky, and the light, and the colors of the grass and buildings, all overwhelmed and made insignificant whatever burdens I had been carrying. I took a deep breath of air, stretched a bit in the sunshine, and felt a new man emerging….

Why you look so sad when the sky is perfect blue? — Smart Bee

When this popped up before me, after experiencing the jolt of universal connection I just described, I realized that the entire experience felt even better when I look at it as a lesson…. When I had opened the door, the Universe had seized my perceptions, and forced me to exist only in that moment, absorbing the visual, auditory, and olfactory stimuli, and the feelings those produced in me, creating a form of experiential gestalt of Now that I would never forget, no matter how far from Now I may find myself…… I have no doubt it will come in handy at some point….    🙂  

But I’ll settle for what I have Now….. for Now….

“I cannot here avoid giving my most decided suffrage in favour of the moral qualities of maniacs.  I have no where met, excepting in romances, with fonder husbands, more affectionate parents, more impassioned … than in the lunatic asylum, during their intervals of calmness and reason.” — Philippe Pinel, ‘Treatise on Insanity’ 1801

Mssr. Pinel relates an interesting observation here, one that parallels my own experience with those who struggle with mental illnesses. The only difference between us is that he is surprised by this observation, while I am not. I observed mentally ill folks for many years, and have come to the conclusion that those who suffer from long periods of insanity have an intense, strong attachment to those types of feelings that give them relief from that mind-storm, much more so than the “sane”, and love of family certainly tops the list of effective sources for those feelings.

Those who have only periodic forays into the world of sanity tend to appreciate those times most avidly, as they are often few and far between, and offer them the only moments of peace that can be found in their all-too-active inner lives. I believe it is this appreciation that drives them to love so strongly, to give so much to those they love when they are feeling well. They are aware, if only peripherally, that their time with those they love is limited, and they make their best efforts to show what they truly feel.

Those who are considered sane, I have found, tend to take such feelings for granted; this is one reason that there are so many divorces in modern life, as people don’t seem to want to do the work that is necessary to maintain a relationship. In this sense, their feelings are less important to them, or at least less in their attention, and they suffer the consequences that follow as certainly as a sunrise.

In fact, relationships are not the only area that so-called sane people could learn valuable lessons by copying what insane folks do. I’ve found that a lot of folks who can’t handle reality very well are very good artists, and studying their techniques and mind-sets can be a tool of some value for other artists, who don’t necessarily suffer from insanity. This is true even though a lot of artists are accused of it because of their art, and what it makes them do….. I’m sure you’ve heard it before, “he’s not insane, he’s an artist….”   That’s me all over…..   🙂

“Insanity — a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.” — R. D. Lang  ( R.D. Lang was a psychiatrist who lived in the twentieth century, and wrote a lot of material on mental health, in individuals and society. I like this statement, as it is a perfect representation of reality.)

A Lecture Upon The Shadow

Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love’s philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produc’d.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduc’d.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us, and our cares; but now ’tis not so.
That love has not attain’d the high’st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine,
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day;
But oh, love’s day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his first minute, after noon, is night.

John Donne

No worries…. morning poetry break…. enjoy!….

We all do some of our best thinking in places that otherwise might not be considered particularly conducive to deep, complex subjects; serendipity comes where it may, though…. and it just occurred to me, in another room that shall be nameless for the sake of delicacy, why I’ve been struggling so hard of late to produce these Pearls.

Over the last few weeks, it seems as if quotes/pearls are hiding from me. It’s been taking me up to three hours a day just to find five pearls worthy of being explored in writing. Very frustrating, even though I read so fast I can cover literally thousands of quotes in an hour…..

What occurred to me is that one of the things that makes me what/who I am is reading books. At the age of 10, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was put in a situation where reading was just about the only form of entertainment available. So, I read, and practice, practice, practice pushed my reading speed up to a point where I could actually read as fast as my mind could absorb the material.

This works out to about 1200 words/minute, basic speed. Deeply complex material, of course, slows it down, and light material allows it to run free, but on average, that number is about right. It works out that it is a perfect speed for consuming one 250-300 page book in one day.

So, I did. I started reading a book a day, and the habit became not merely fixed, but unbreakable. If I go too long without reading, I get physically ill, seriously. Headaches, malaise, distraction, all are caused by not reading enough, and are cured by just a few minutes spent in a novel I’m currently absorbing.

Just letting my eyes work their way over the “words in a line” is soothing; any words will do… cereal boxes, magazines, comics, anything, but a book is best. My mind NEEDS the stimulation that taking in the concepts, ideas, and stories that a book supplies; it’s like breathing to me, I don’t feel right when its smooth functioning is interrupted, and I’ll do almost anything to put it back to rights…..

Thanks, however, to the lasting effects of PTSD, I’ve been unable to concentrate long enough to sit and read. It has been hard, as well, to sublimate by visiting my co-blogger’s sites to read what they are thinking about. And this inability to read sufficiently is what is behind all my difficulties here…. For me, this is an epiphany, for it is a problem with a simple, sustainable solution, easily and immediately applicable.

All I have to do is set aside more time to read, and use a bit of tough-self-love…. I’ll tell myself whatever I need to in order to sit and finish a few books (which, of course, I’ve already got lined up…. it’s not like I haven’t thought of reading, just haven’t dug in to do it….), and all dysfunctional habits, or at least the underlying cause, will disappear like the illusions they really are….

This also, in short order, should act as a spur toward being able to read more blogs, which will be good, too. I’ve been feeling some guilt, something I almost never give in to, because I’ve been unable to get to a lot of sites where I’ve become attached to the authors and their work…. But, I’ve been instructed by at least one of them that I am not to feel guilty, so I won’t. I’ll just be glad I can get back to reading some of them….   and back to eating, er, reading, a book a day….

There is something to be said, I guess, for falling asleep at 6 PM and sleeping straight through to 4 AM. This process went much more smoothly this morning, after a couple of rough starts. More proof that “sleep is a weapon”, no doubt…..

As usual, after a good effort, I’m a bit let down, not yet having finished the technical aspects of publishing, but done with the creative part. Good practice for learning to enjoy even the negative experiences in life, if only for being the precursors to all the good…. Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..

Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.



Petite lint balls won’t delay the vote…..

Preternatural voices careen down the corridor, washing away silence in a cacophony of unadulterated terror, stinging, grasping, bleeding into unheard but deeply penetrating undertones, perilous and weighted with fear. But the walls stand mute, and unafraid. Thus, balance is maintained, and time begins again….

Just as if it had never happened at all, he continued to type, completely unaware that he was still in the grip of the night, and could no more cease to type than he could cease to breathe. Abused by the muse, he succumbs, and swearing to repent, he is allowed to arise, and drink coffee, thus saving his life, and the day….

I don’t know what to say to that, surprising as that may be. I often let myself flow when writing, particularly phantasmagoria such as the first short paragraph. But this sort of got away from me, and I feel a bit used. I think, though I can’t be sure, that my muse did some rather uncivilized things to me last night in my sleep; why else would I feel so cheap before I’ve even had time to entertain any immoral thoughts, or kicked any puppies? I’m thinking at this point, my best hope is to turn to an old technique, one we all use from time to time…. sheer, stubborn denial.

Yeah, that’s the ticket…. no worries! It’s all good now. Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What you are asking makes no sense, because none of that ever happened. So, let’s not argue, eh? Let’s just get on with what we’re all here for… a healthy serving of oyster gems…… shall we Pearl, then?

“I can wear my shirts as pants.” — Smart Bee

That’s it. “I can wear my shirts as pants.”  That is the best I’ve come up with so far. For a solid 45 minutes, I have been diligently reading potential pearls, and this is the one that made the grade. I must point out that it only did so because I was so frustrated, this line assumed a much larger significance to my fevered brain, so much so it forced its way onto the page. Pathetic, isn’t it? Today’s process is FUBAR, so far, but we must push on, or, or,….. or I’ll spit!

Well, THAT threat will certainly send my muse into gales of hysterical laughter…. and I wouldn’t blame her a bit. I’m feeling a bit hysterical myself at this point, totally uncertain as to how to deal with this unprecedented state of affairs. Smart Bee has never been this reluctant to dredge up at least a couple of shiny gems, even if it is only out of pity at times. Today, no mercy….. and no inspiration, either….

It is clear that extraordinary methods will have to be applied…. or at least, threatened. Nothing short of taking away her beer allowance ever works, so I’m going straight for the jugular here…. no more Tres Equis until the filter is removed from Smart Bee, and a suitable group of pearls has been harvested. No Tres Equis, and no Bug Lite, either…. That’s the final word, and no more argument will be tolerated. If that doesn’t do the trick, then I’ll be online this afternoon, looking for a deal on a new muse, because this one will be out the door and gone…. I’m done fooling around. If I don’t get this done in a timely fashion, there WILL be changes in personnel made around here, and she can take that to the beer bank!

I am now drawing my shirt up over my legs, buttoning up, tying the tie I’m using as a belt, and will now proceed to search out a gorgeous, shiny new pearl, which I fully expect to be waiting for me when I arrive at the oyster beds…… last warning…..

“One can imagine a sane, healthy, cheerful human society based on no more than the principles of common sense, as validated each day by work, play, and living experience. But this remains the most Utopian and fantastic of ideals.” — Edward Abbey

I almost skipped over this, because it seems so obvious. But, then I paused, and thought about it a moment, and it occurred to me to ask myself, “Why?” (I know, a generally futile question when applied to reality, but, hey, today is denial day, so, onward…..) Why should such a concept be so easily dismissed as a worthy goal? What keeps us from becoming a society based on reason and compassion, rather than its current format of a culture of avarice and ambition? Answers to these questions are always given with a smirk, a wink, and a knowing look between those that comprise the beloved ruling class that our society has allowed to shape its destiny.

They are smug, and confident, that the great masses of people in society will never ask these questions, knowing they will never receive an answer that provides any real hope of change. The folks who make up the bulk of society long ago gave away their will; they see no hope of change for the better, and have not the energy to make any attempt to make those changes themselves, being too busy trying to survive in a world that doesn’t care at all about their suffering. They meekly accept the indignities that modern life forces them to endure, silently grieving over their once-precious dreams, and hoping only that things will not get worse.

No, the dream of Utopia is dead in the modern world. There is too much evidence that those who seek and gain power over others in this world have already attained their goals. Nothing is going to change if they can help it, and they have had a strangle-hold on the rest of us for a couple thousand years, a hold that gives them perfect confidence that they can do as they wish, and no one is going to do anything about it at all, at all…..  Scary, isn’t it?….. And, all too real……

This has been a moment of Truth, brought to you by gigoid….. for all the good it will do…… it’s the thought that counts, right?

“And sometimes the bear eats you.”– Smart Bee

ART, n.  This word has no definition.  Its origin is related as follows by the ingenious Father Gassalasca Jape, S.J.

One day a wag — what would the wretch be at? —
Shifted a letter of the cipher RAT,
And said it was a god’s name!  Straight arose
Fantastic priests and postulates (with shows,
And mysteries, and mummeries, and hymns,
And disputations dire that lamed their limbs)
To serve his temple and maintain the fires,
Expound the law, manipulate the wires.
Amazed, the populace that rites attend,
Believe whate’er they cannot comprehend,
And, only edified to learn that two
Half-hairs joined so and so (as Art can do)
Have sweeter values and a grace more fit
Than Nature’s hairs that never have been split,
Bring cakes and wines for sacrificial feasts,
And sell their garments to support the priests.

— Ambrose Bierce, “The Devil’s Dictionary”

I’m getting a picture in my head, of Madonna, standing on stage with Dr. Phil, Andy Warhol, Yoko Ono, and the entire cast of “Borat Sees America”. You know, those folks who are currently the icons of Artists, the avant garde, as it were…. whatever that means. (Oops, sorry, forgot. Andy Warhol passed on. You may exclude him from further inclusion in this discussion…) (Not because I respect him or his art, but he’s no longer around to defend himself, so, just being fair….)  I’m not going to go on too long about this, I just wanted folks to think about the stuff that passes for Art these days, and how it says certain things about the state of society.

“Art has an obligation to offend.” — Edward Albee

This attitude may be a large part of the problem. It is, in reality, an observation that is true, but not exclusively true. But the media, and too many otherwise mediocre singers, painters, writers, etc. take it to be the defining characteristic of what is meant by “good” Art. Sort of like assuming the Big Mac to be the highest form of culinary expression, the ultimate meal for the modern world. Forget elegance, or subtlety, or beauty; to these morons truth is ugly and mean…. hence, we have folks like Justin Bieber atop the charts, and movies like “American Reunion” pulling in millions of dollars in a matter of days. It may be a word I’ve over-used of late, but to me it’s pretty pathetic….

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
— Alexander Pope (1688-1744) — Essay on Man, Epistle iv, Line 261

In my opinion, a lot of the poetry, prose, painting, and graphic art that I see right here on WordPress is far superior to anything I’ve seen in a museum of modern art in a very long time. (That doesn’t include museum displays of the art of ancient Egypt, or European Masters of the Renaissance, or others of that ilk…. that is a different story altogether….)  Art is a reflection of the soul of society, and a lot of the reflections I see on public display are….. just plain ugly, and full of despair……  think about it, that’s all…..

E’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E’en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
— Thomas Gray (1716-1771) — Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 23

I hate to mention things like this in this feature, but it is one of the more pressing problems in America today, and that is the lack of tap-dancers in the Miss America contest. — Smart Bee (On the strength of the mere existence of this phrase, that it can even be uttered in jest, I rest my case…..)

DAMN, v.  A word formerly much used by the Paphlagonians, the meaning of which is lost.  By the learned Dr. Dolabelly Gak it is believed to have been a term of satisfaction, implying the highest possible degree of mental tranquility.  Professor Groke, on the contrary, thinks it expressed an emotion of tumultuous delight, because it so frequently occurs in combination with the word _jod_ or _god_, meaning “joy.”  It would be with great diffidence that I should advance an opinion conflicting with that of either of these formidable authorities. — Ambrose Bierce, “The Devil’s Dictionary”

Delightful! Such eloquent nonsense! It needs no embellishment, and will receive none here. It is here only to tickle my sense of whimsy, which strikes at odd moments, but is always welcome….. just enjoy it, and move on, with a little smile gracing your face….

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
— Emily Dickinson

At last! At last, a fitting pearl with which to end this marathon. Finding this particularly shiny, perfectly formed pearl from Ms. Emily has made my entire morning! Such power, such beauty, such insight, such masked pain, and such hope, all condensed into the simplest, most compelling grouping of words one can imagine.  Serendipity has indeed rewarded my perseverance and discipline this morning, throwing this into my path as a parting gift. It puts the perfect cap on the discussion above re: modern Art, providing a counterpoint to the examples of Art we are daily bombarded with in the media circus of modern life. Bonus!….. and the perfect ending point…..

The best laid schemes o’ mice and men
Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
— Robert Burns, To a Mouse

I would like you all to know that this is a record breaking Pearl of Virtual Wisdom. It has required my utmost effort for almost four  hours to show the discipline to bring it to a (somewhat) successful conclusion. It has taken me an inordinate amount of time to not only find the material about which to write, but to pound and slice and trim that material into usable shapes. I am tempted to use the word Herculean to describe that effort, but Herc might be a bit out of my league. Let’s just say that I put everything I’ve got into this one, and will no doubt need a transfusion later today, once these veins have closed up sufficiently to make it practical.

Hard as it has been to get this done, I now find myself reluctant to stop. Don’t worry, I will, that wasn’t meant as a threat, so calm down. But, I sort of feel like the Jack-in-the-Box clown when the spring is starting to wind down, and there are a couple of turns left. I guess I’ll use them to go fix some breakfast, to replace some of this energy I’ve expended so far today. You’re welcome to join me, if you wish. But, it’s time to get on with it, so adieu for the nonce….. Y’all take care out there…..

Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.



Wicked barbarian hairstyles with peach highlights….

Back in dark ages, during the hippie era in Berkeley, I was fortunate enough to be able to attend an exhibition of art at the San Francisco Museum of Art in Golden Gate Park. The showing I attended was highlighted by a collection of the paintings of Vincent Van Gogh.  During my walk through his visions in oil, I stopped to look at one of his self-portraits, and received a revelation, or perhaps epiphany. In any case…as I stood looking at this small painting, covered with the extremely thick, bold strokes common to his works, I thought at first that it was a good piece of work, but I didn’t see what all the fuss was about his paintings, which were often simple and without pretension, scenes of everyday life. Then, for some reason, I stepped back from the portrait I was observing, to a distance of about 12 feet from the painting. When I reached a certain spot away from the painting, his eyes came to life. Literally. Alive. The entire portrait no longer had brush strokes that described a face; it WAS a face, and his eyes looked right into my soul. I could feel all of his feelings through his eyes; the anguish, the pain, the genius, all of it came through as if I was looking at his reflection in a mirror. In that moment, I was given a gift, for which I will always be grateful. I had seen beauty in its most basic form; with bold strokes Van Gogh made his vision of life come to life, and it was then I first came to understand genius, and how it can show Reality to those of us who cannot always see what people like Van Gogh see through their unique vision.

Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen many things that are beautiful, both in the works of man, and in nature itself. It was a grand awakening, of a side of my own soul that previously I had not known, and I have always been grateful for the impulse that took me to SF that day. Seeing true beauty, as seen through the eyes of a genius (I know, three times, but its the best word I have on that subject), has shown me how to find it in other places, and has enriched my life in uncountable ways. So if you ever get the chance to see his work, or the sculpture of Renoir, or hear the music of Mozart and Bach, take the chance. You won’t regret it…..

All this leads me to today’s Pearls, many of which were created by men of genius, and bear the unmistakable sign of beauty that only a few people can show us……beauty is as necessary for life as is oxygen. A soul that cannot appreciate it is a stunted soul, and not fully human. These were all chosen because they touch Reality, and show it back to us, and bring us to beauty….

“There are worlds out there where the sky is burning and the sea’s asleep and the rivers dream; people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there’s danger, somewhere there’s injustice, somewhere else the tea’s getting cold. Come on Ace, we’ve got work to do…”
— The Doctor, Survival [Last lines of last episode]

‘Friendship should be more than biting time can sever.’ — T. S. Eliot

I see the lights of the village
gleam through the rain and the mist.
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me,
that my soul cannot resist.
A feeling of sadness and longing
that is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
as the mist resembles rain.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), The Day is done

“Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind.
To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue.” — Buddha (B.C. 568-488)

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
— Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), The Ballad of Reading Gaol

It is alleged that when Einstein and his wife visited the Mount Wilson Observatory in California, Mrs. Einstein pointed to a particularly
complex piece of equipment and asked its purpose. Their guide said that it was used to determine the shape of the universe. “Oh,” she
said, not at all impressed, “my husband uses the back of an old envelope to work that out.”

That is probably enough for one day; don’t want to consume too much in one sitting. Today, I’m going to hunt beauty…y’all take care out there…

Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.