spaaaaace! also i saw a pug on the t this morning
the hubble space telescope is twenty-five today. *blows bubbles* check out a shit-ton of glorious space photos in its honor. (every time i see "hubble space telescope" i think of thor calling it the "hooble" in thor.)
a straight high school student in nevada asked his gay best friend to the prom, because the best friend volunteers at all the dances but had never been asked to one, and he tweeted that it would be nice if he had a date for the prom. awww.
this morning on the bus - which was a fairly packed bus, altho there were a couple empty seats - there was a woman sitting by the window with her purse taking up the seat next to her. it wasn't even a big purse. she could've put it on her lap but she CLEARLY wanted the whole bench to herself. RUDE. also INCONSIDERATE AS HELL. but then i saw a woman with a pug waiting for the t, which cheered me right up. i mean, pug. pugs are adorable.
i have now seen the vikings finale and i have one thing to say. i knew ragnar's desire to be converted was at least partly a ploy to get into paris! he's so smart. and i loved floki's "oh shit" face when ragnar told him he knows how athelstan died. yeah, floki, we know you love him, but you killed his priest and he is PISSED. also very, very patient.
poem! (there's no interesting way to introduce them.)
The man sitting behind me
is telling the man sitting next to him about his heart bypass.
Outside the train's window, the landscapes smear by -
the earnest, haphazard distillations of America. The backyards
and back sides of houses. The back lots of shops
and factories. The undersides of bridges. And then the stretches
of actual land, which is not so much land
but the kinds of water courses and greenery that register
like luck in the mind. Dense walls of trees.
Punky little woods. The living continually out-growing
the fallen and decaying. The vines and ivies taking over
everything, proving that the force of disorder is also the force
of plenty. Then the eye dilating to the sudden
clearings-fields, meadows. The bogs that must have been left
by retreating glaciers. The creeks, the algae broth
of ponds. Then the broad silver of rivers, shiny
as turnstiles. Attrition, dispersal, growth - a system unfastened
to story, as though the green sight itself
was beyond story, was peacefully beyond any clear meaning.
But why the gust of alertness that comes
to me every time any indication of the human
passes into sight - like a mirror, like to like, even though I am not
the summer backyard with the orange soccer ball resting
there, even though I am not the pick-up truck
parked in the back lot, its two doors opened
wide, and no one around to show whether it is funny
or an emergency that the truck is like that. Each thing looks new
even when it is old and broken down.
They had to open me up - the man is now telling the other man.
I wasn't there to see it, but they opened me up.
--"Cascades 501", Rick Barot
a straight high school student in nevada asked his gay best friend to the prom, because the best friend volunteers at all the dances but had never been asked to one, and he tweeted that it would be nice if he had a date for the prom. awww.
this morning on the bus - which was a fairly packed bus, altho there were a couple empty seats - there was a woman sitting by the window with her purse taking up the seat next to her. it wasn't even a big purse. she could've put it on her lap but she CLEARLY wanted the whole bench to herself. RUDE. also INCONSIDERATE AS HELL. but then i saw a woman with a pug waiting for the t, which cheered me right up. i mean, pug. pugs are adorable.
i have now seen the vikings finale and i have one thing to say. i knew ragnar's desire to be converted was at least partly a ploy to get into paris! he's so smart. and i loved floki's "oh shit" face when ragnar told him he knows how athelstan died. yeah, floki, we know you love him, but you killed his priest and he is PISSED. also very, very patient.
poem! (there's no interesting way to introduce them.)
The man sitting behind me
is telling the man sitting next to him about his heart bypass.
Outside the train's window, the landscapes smear by -
the earnest, haphazard distillations of America. The backyards
and back sides of houses. The back lots of shops
and factories. The undersides of bridges. And then the stretches
of actual land, which is not so much land
but the kinds of water courses and greenery that register
like luck in the mind. Dense walls of trees.
Punky little woods. The living continually out-growing
the fallen and decaying. The vines and ivies taking over
everything, proving that the force of disorder is also the force
of plenty. Then the eye dilating to the sudden
clearings-fields, meadows. The bogs that must have been left
by retreating glaciers. The creeks, the algae broth
of ponds. Then the broad silver of rivers, shiny
as turnstiles. Attrition, dispersal, growth - a system unfastened
to story, as though the green sight itself
was beyond story, was peacefully beyond any clear meaning.
But why the gust of alertness that comes
to me every time any indication of the human
passes into sight - like a mirror, like to like, even though I am not
the summer backyard with the orange soccer ball resting
there, even though I am not the pick-up truck
parked in the back lot, its two doors opened
wide, and no one around to show whether it is funny
or an emergency that the truck is like that. Each thing looks new
even when it is old and broken down.
They had to open me up - the man is now telling the other man.
I wasn't there to see it, but they opened me up.
--"Cascades 501", Rick Barot