i can't wait to sleep in a real bed again
i am home and so, so, so tired. i love my cousins and i like spending time with them and their kids but three days of sustained family time is probably just enough. my roommate is in maine for the weekend and i am VERY HAPPY about that because it means i'm HOME ALONE. that said, it was a good trip, altho it started with a check engine light in the rental car and ended with my and my sister's italy trip next month being canceled (the hotel couldn't confirm accommodations for the tour or something) but in between was a fun seder (we sang passover songs to abba melodies and everyone got a disco ball necklace) and a visit to jimmy carter's presidential library and museum (where i learned among other things that he and rosalynn had three sons before amy and she wasn't an only child like i always thought) and a lot of hanging out and stuffing our faces. cousin j puts on a good spread. i'm glad she invites us every year but man, i am (temporarily) done with people. but on the plus side no one had covid, which is something.
and now i'm watching the return of the jedi because it's on and because i can't resist a younger harrison ford. :D
the world's deepest fish caught on film - it's a snailfish and a camera caught it 8300 meters down, which is about five miles. that's deep.
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
--Walter de la Mare, "The Traveller"
and now i'm watching the return of the jedi because it's on and because i can't resist a younger harrison ford. :D
the world's deepest fish caught on film - it's a snailfish and a camera caught it 8300 meters down, which is about five miles. that's deep.
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
--Walter de la Mare, "The Traveller"