and UV resistant
your dishes are safe with me
visited *loading* times
Browsed – drifted over – some 300 blogs in less than 48 hours.
Category: Politics
Click what to continue?
869.
Where’s 869? Click.
“Surfing too soon.”
Sigh.
Wait 27 seconds more.
Left comments here and there, about five of them, of the 300 or so; bookmarked, oh I don’t know, eleven, blogs? Gems are hard to come by.
I buzz E, it is 3 a.m. She knows something’s up. I tell her what.
I won’t say here though what is up. (Maybe in another post.)
Had she been here now, and not in that sandy country, I would’ve asked her over for a food binge. And she would've come here in a dash. I let food and a nice chat eat away at my troubles. Only E knows this fact so well that I almost never tell her I’m hungry just because.
And if she needed to talk to me, and to D (our old mentor) as had usually been the case before she left – and as seems to be the case now – she would come here and off we would go to D’s house. There she would exorcise her demons with smoke. Cigarettes are to E what food is to me.
This is really what it’s about. And it’s not me.
D, though feigning surprise and annoyance, would let us in; E and I know she had actually been expecting us and was glad we came, but we would just let her be her patently crabby self. What is it this time, she’d ask dryly, as we settle on the garden chairs. That’s E’s cue to feed the dark night with its favorite treats: smoke, stories, secrets.
E would light a cigarette, draw a sharp breath and tip her head back in one fluid motion, and release the smoke up into the air through her mouth. Then she’d begin unloading, and D disapprovingly keeping count of cigarette butts. In all fairness to D, she keeps count as well as she humors and listens.
That’s the good thing about this little triumvirate: however heavy the issues may be, there’d be no melodramatic exchanges of consolatory gestures, or condescending passing of judgment; just good old venting and sharing, listening and breathing the smoke-filled air.
Quietly I would watch the blue wispy smoke rise, diffuse and disappear into the darkness. While half-listening to E (I’d have heard it all before) I’d imagine the smoke reaching and rousing the dead, the shut-eyed, the chieftain of the seventh tribe, and wonder what they might make out of it. Would they sense the sadness, the frustration, the anger behind its lightness?
But it would only be her mother who’d sniff out the smoke; who, in the middle of the night, would send through their digital umbilical cord, a message for her to come home. An electronic sound, a reminder of time, an excuse for D to throw us out. We get up and go on our ways back home. It’s been a night.
Desiderata
by Max Ehrman
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
It was near dusk and the trees and leaves were losing their colors when I found myself looking for a store named “Harry’s” in the sparingly inhabited area of the woods. I was to follow the cemented path, having figured out that the store was just straight ahead, but I decided to turn right uphill anyway. It was a steep hike. It was almost like climbing up a wall, but I did not mind, I kept walking, and came across a horseman at one point. I could already see the ocean – an invitingly cool blue ocean – before even reaching the top. When I did, I realized that it was just a lagoon, or a lake, a blue lake, on top of the hill. In the middle of the lake was an island. I wanted to go to there, but I opted to walk toward the edge of the hill. Standing there I stared out into the light blue vastness, and there as I looked down, beyond the edge of the hill, was yet the same light blue seeming-infinity. Just then it appeared as if the hill I was standing on was a mere rock suspended in that endlessness. And suddenly I remembered the lake and the island, so I turned around and in one bound I was on the island. It swung back and forth like a seesaw underneath my weight, and like magic, an aerial perspective of the whole scene made me see that the island was in fact a huge round buoyant rock. I explored the rock and reached a resort; somewhere on the rock was a beach and a spa where there were people having fun – talking while feasting on roasted pig, pineapples and watermelons, talking while sipping wine or fruit shake while taking a dip in the spa, talking while hanging out at the beach, laughing as a wave that hit a boulder sprayed their faces. I did not hear their laughter; neither did I see their faces. But somehow I was sure that they were all happy and having fun. Next thing I was climbing downhill, and there was a stream of blue water rolling at the pace of my steps, as if to accompany me. Meanwhile more people were going up. Some of them seemed to be consumed in their delight as they made their way up; some of them still looked at me with inquiring yet thrilled faces. Like before I did not see these people's expressions but was sure that they were excited to know what was up there. I continued walking without giving them any hint, like I did not even see them at all. It was already dark when I reached the foot of the hill. I turned left where I had originally come from instead of right in the direction of the store. Although it didn't seem to make any sense, and for no apparent reason, making that turn felt right.
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