mmas. bsg. flw. poetry without abbreviations.
completely satisfied with last night's make me a supermodel. missed a lot of it because my sister called me. watched the end of it with her on the phone. heh. want a "where are they now" follow-up episode in six months or so.
new bsg tonight. WHEE, I SAY, WHEE.
frank lloyd wright's la miniatura is for sale. it's in pasadena and was built for alice millard, who was a rare-book dealer. fabulous use of concrete blocks. three bed, three bath, plus a studio designed by flw's son, only $7.5 million.
have a poem.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
--John Gillespie Magee, Jr, "High Flight"
new bsg tonight. WHEE, I SAY, WHEE.
frank lloyd wright's la miniatura is for sale. it's in pasadena and was built for alice millard, who was a rare-book dealer. fabulous use of concrete blocks. three bed, three bath, plus a studio designed by flw's son, only $7.5 million.
have a poem.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
--John Gillespie Magee, Jr, "High Flight"