{essential truths} Duck

You'll have to sit by the river
for a very long time
before a roast duck flies into your mouth.

{this memory} 60

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Nantucket Island, Massachusetts - on the beach near Siasconset. This was a Columbus Day weekend getaway in 1979. My wife and I were still in our first year of marriage and took off with one of her cousins and her husband for a fun weekend.

Take off, indeed. The cousin had miscalculated, and we missed the last ferry of the day - and I mean just missed it. We watched it set sail, in fact. Back in the car, we headed for the airport where we managed to get on a puddle-jumper with all of our luggage. I didn't think it would, but somehow the little plane managed to get airborne. Soon we were on the tiny island.

We had rented a couple of rooms in a large bed-and-breakfast. Very nice. We made full use of our time - walks, horses, whaling museum, shopping, great meals, and exploration. We even rented a car so we could explore the far corners of the island, which is where this photo was taken.

It was a great weekend, but we've never been back. It's about time though, I think. So many wonderful memories - I am a fortunate man and one who managed to avoid throwing a Nantucket limerick your way.

TGB

{poetically plagiarized} 9: Gold

If You Could Only

If you could only know me for who I am

instead of for who I am not,

there would be so much more to see

for there is so much more that I’ve got.

So long as you see me as mentally retarded,

which supposedly means something I guess,

there is nothing you or I could ever do

to make me a human success.

Someday you’ll know that tests aren’t built

to let me stand next to you.

By the way you test me, all they can do

is make me look bad through and through.

And someday soon I’ll get my chance

when some of you finally adapt.

You’ll be delighted to know that though I’m MR,

I’m not at all handicapped.

Marc Gold, 1975

If Gold were writing today, I am sure he would use currently accepted person-first terminology (individuals with intellectual disabilities) although within the structure of the poem that might be difficult. He has been a fierce and tireless advocate for these wonderful individuals and looks forward to a day when the Word is Banned.

TGB   

{this moment} 60

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Children On The Subject Of Angels

Angels don't eat, but I think they drink milk from Holy Cows.

Everyone has it all wrong. Angels no longer wear halos. I don't remember why, but scientists are working on it.

My guardian angel helps me with science, but he's no good for math.

It's hard to become an angel. First, you have to die. Then you go to heaven and go through flight training. And then they make you agree to wear those angel clothes.

The only two angels I know of are Hark and Harold.

Angels work for God. They watch over little kids when God has to go do something else.

Certain angels are in charge of helping heal your sick pets. And if the pets don't get better, they help the child get over it.

Angels have lots to do, and they keep really busy. Like when you lose a tooth, an angel comes in through the window and leaves money under the pillow. Then when it gets cold outside, they go south for the winter.

Angels live in cloud houses. These are made by God and His son, who is a really good carpenter.

What I don't understand about angels is why, if someone is in love, they shoot arrows at them.

When an angel gets angry, he takes a deep breath. Then he counts to ten. When he lets his breath out, there's a tornado somewhere.

All angels are girls because the boys didn't want to wear dresses.

Authors Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

Mighty Finn - Update #5

Okay, lab rats - it's been a month since the last update! Time to see what's happening. Here are a few photos to update you further and in the Mighty Finn's own words.

When I last spoke to you, we were on the Outer Banks.
This was the last shot as we headed out the door.

Back home with mommy - figuring out our next adventure.

I'm buckled up, but she didn't say where we were going.
Said it was a surprise.

Cool. And pretty. I like it here. Thanks, Mom.

OMG - WTF IS THAT??!! MOM!!!

Maybe I'll just stay here on the bench until we leave.

How about some coffee?
On another day we stopped for some, and I got my own big chair.
And a few goods books to read too.

Wow - look what mommy ordered. Yum. 

Maybe she'll share? Of course, she will.

Hey. Wait. What happened to sharing?

It's all gone.

:(

Another day, another stop.
But I really do like my pediatrician. He's nice.

Hey - you stabbed me with that needle thing!

You could have at least warned me.

Another new experience - outdoor swings.

Back home for a bit, and

that's about it - until next month.

{essential truths} Clowns

Not everyone gets to be a
rodeo clown when they grow up.

Random Acts Of Kindness

My meeting had finished its business, and the conversations had begun to revolve around travel and what remained of the summer. In Utica with its large Italian community, that usually means who's been and who's going next to Italy.

One colleague detailed his upcoming stops. In response, I suggested that while in Florence he must eat at Trattoria Omero. I shared a bit of my experience there in {this memory} 46. I hope I get the chance to return one day.

Today I'm writing about another restaurant stop, however, and a simple kindness that represented what I thought was extraordinary service.

I was in Rome with my wife and daughters in August of 1989. My girls were quite young - still in single digits age-wise, and we had been traveling for a couple of weeks. I knew everyone was tired, but my daughters were still on their best behavior. We didn't hesitate to take them to a nice restaurant.

I had read about a restaurant that had been opened by a former Alitalia flight attendant and her son in an alley not too far from our hotel and near Piazza Navona. I've gone back to try to find its location or existence with no success, but it was highly recommended then by the printed guide.

We arrived and were seated, and I could tell the owner was a bit nervous about whether my girls would be problematic. It didn't take long for her to relax though. In fact, by the time she took our drink orders, it was like we were old friends. While my wife and I were determined to enjoy a nice wine, my daughters had both requested Cokes. While they waited for them, I noticed the owner slipped out and went down the street - only to return a few moments later with a small paper bag tucked under her arm. Soon my daughters had their Cokes.

Ah - rather than say she did not have Coke, she had gone to a market to get some for my girls. As impressive as that was, however, what I remember most is what happened next.

A couple of nights later we decided to return to this small restaurant. We had really enjoyed it. We had just been seated when the owner immediately disappeared around the corner - only to return with a small bag probably containing two cans of Coke. I suppose in anticipation that Coke was what my daughters would soon request.

There are not many places where that would happen, but I dearly wish that were not the case. Random acts of kindness should be the norm. It's almost a quarter century later, and I'm still talking about it.

When was the last time you gave or received a random bit of kindness?

TGB   

The Secret Of Mind Success

What follows has become something of a tradition. I share it each fall as the college gets underway, and it just so happens that classes begin one week from today. It originally comes from a speech I used to give as Dean of the College.

Robert F. Kennedy, 1966:
"You live in the most privileged nation on earth. You are the most privileged citizens of that nation - for you have been given the opportunity to study and learn. You can use your enormous privilege and opportunity to seek purely private pleasure and gain, but history will judge you, and as the years pass, you will ultimately judge yourself, on the extent to which you have used your gifts to enlighten and enrich the lives of your fellow man. In your hands, not with presidents and leaders, is the future of your world and the fulfillment of the best qualities of your own spirit."      

I’ve been thinking about what I want to tell my new advisees. You know – those wide-eyed freshmen who are eager to drink every drop of wisdom I can offer and know it will be just the elixir to guarantee success in college and therefore success and happiness in life.

Sure.

But ... if they would listen, I could be very brief and would offer just one thought. I want them to think about becoming TAKERs. All of their lives they have probably been taught that it’s better to Give than to Receive. Well, I don’t want them to do that anymore; I want them to become TAKERs.

First, I want them to TAKE ADVANTAGE of the wealth of opportunities offered by higher education.

I want them to embrace diversity - whether it’s through an international program that allows them to study just about anywhere in the world or one that brings to them students from other cultures so we can all learn from them. I want them to engage fully each of their professors by taking advantage of opportunities for interaction inside AND outside of class. Take from us. Drain us of all that we know. I want them to participate in a variety of student life activities, athletics, and community outreach programs – in other words, become good citizens.

Second, I want them to TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for themselves.

They must get themselves to class. Some professors don’t care but most do, and students simply will not do their best if they do not take responsibility for getting to class. Once there, they must listen carefully, and if they don’t know how to listen, they need to learn to listen. And quickly. If they don't know how, they need to learn to take notes. They must also keep healthy and rested, and this is no so small task. They need to eat well and sleep sufficiently. They must recognize stress and deal with it, and they must seek help when it's needed.

Third, I want them to TAKE CHANCES.

They should explore courses that are difficult or that they think you might not enjoy. They should not fear being less than perfect; so few of us are. I wasn't even close – not today either - so this was never a challenge for me. The reality is they are not going to get all “A”s. It would be nice, but it’s not likely. There was a time decades ago when I offered therapy for students with significant test anxiety. I stopped when it became obvious they were mostly “A” students who were scared to death they might get a “B” in something. I had better things to do with my time.

Now the wonderful irony in all of this is that if they learn to be TAKERs, they’ll actually become GIVERs. They’ll be giving me and themselves and their education 100%, and that’s all that I or anyone else could ever ask of them.

That's what I would say - if they asked. And if they were willing to listen. Or, they could emulate Bluto and end up on Double Secret Probation and see "seven years of college down the drain."

TGB

{picture perfect} Garden

Sand and Stone Garden
Portland Japanese Garden
Portland, Oregon
Copyright © 2008 Amy Elizabeth Brown
Used with permission

Car Crash

After dying in a car crash, three friends go to Heaven for orientation.

They are all asked the same question, "When you're lying in your casket and friends and family are mourning over you, what would you like to hear them say about you?"

The first guy immediately responds, "I would like to hear them say that I was one of the great doctors of my time and a great family man."

The second guy says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and school teacher who made a huge difference in the children of tomorrow."

The last guy thinks for a moment, and then replies, "I guess I'd like to hear them say, 'Look, he's alive!' "

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

Sleepless In New Hartford

More than a few of you have asked if I watched the Perseids after encouraging y'all to do so. I have to admit I did, but I didn't give it much more than a passing effort this year. Please read a post from a couple of years ago. It's my more typical experience.

August 14, 2010                      

You knew I had to. It's too impressive, too moving, too fundamental to be missed. I'm writing about the Perseids again. Thursday night, the 12th, was too cloudy for good viewing. Since this was the evening of peak meteors, that was frustrating, but there is always another chance. Last night, Friday the 13th, would prove to be better.

I went out twice early on - once about 11:00 pm and again about 30 minutes later. There were great views of the Dippers, both Big and Little, and Jupiter, easily the brightest object in the sky, was on its way up. There were, however, scattered clouds so I wasn't optimistic. No meteors. It was early though, and I didn't really wait very long. I went to bed knowing that I would get up at some point and try again.

About 3:00 am (now Saturday the 14th), I woke up wondering if it were any clearer. I went to the nearest easterly window to see if I could see any stars. I could - so for a brief period I watched from there. It didn't take long. Swoosh - a beautiful bright streak lasting maybe a second. Wahoo! Okay - now we're talking. I got semi-dressed and went out in my backyard where I plopped myself down in a comfortable Adirondack chair by the pool. I couldn't help but note that I was the only one out there. Eight chairs too. It would have been nice to have someone in the chair beside me - watching the night sky and listening to nature's wonderful noises with me.

I positioned myself looking northeast - pretty much in the direction of the Pleiades, but I had a good view in all directions except for some trees blocking anything low on the horizon. These chairs are great for stargazing because of the angle of the back. Jupiter was now off to my right and still amazingly bright. I watched for about 30 minutes and was rewarded with four more meteors. Actually I had expected more in that time frame, but I was content with the five I had seen that evening, er, morning.

It's hard to believe these meteors are only about the size of a grain of sand. When they explode after hitting our atmosphere at thousands of miles per hour, it is just spectacular. Brief but spectacular. And so awe inspiring. You can't help but think profoundly about your place in our clockwork universe and feel connected to the many generations of ancestors who have watched similar celestial wonder. Timelessness.

It was nearly 4:00 by the time I was back in bed, and Orion with his belt was beginning to rise in the east. Rigel and Betelgeuse too - as parts of Orion. Castor and Pollux were coming up. And Aldebaran had been there most of the night.

I was content. Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, crickets. I'd say goodnight, moon, but I think it's copyrighted. That and the fact that the beautiful crescent moon had set in the west many hours earlier along with the triple conjunction of Venus, Mars, and Saturn. What a night!

And ... HAPPY BIRTHDAY to all you Leos. This light show is for you.

TGB   

{poetically plagiarized} 8: Angelou

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them

They say they still can't see.

I say,

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Maya Angelou, 1995

Choices

My fiction fingers are itching for some exercise, but I know I don't have the time to complete a story at the moment. What I offer you is a stem for a story - a brief interchange between a man and a women. I leave it to you to suggest some possible beginnings or contexts or directions in which it might develop.

So I said, “When I interviewed you, did I close the door to my office? “I think not,” she said, “but I truly don’t remember.” “Why?” she asked.

“Well, if I left it open, it could mean I was afraid of what I might do. On the other hand, if I closed it, it could mean I wanted to be alone with you.” Then I added, “You choose.”

She indicated she was ignoring the door, and I shouted in response, “How can you ignore the door?! Doors are just too symbolic."

I never told her I didn’t remember either, and I posed the question only because she was just so much fun to tease. She never chose, and the teasing continues.

Hmmmm.

TGB   

{essential truths} War

Never get involved in a land war in Asia.

{picture perfect} Merzouga

Merzouga, Moroccan Desert

©Amy Elizabeth Brown. 2007.
Digital photograph. Used with permission.

The dunes are عرق الشبي (Erg Chebbi) and in the Western Sahara.

Smartest People In The World

A doctor, a lawyer, a little boy, and a priest were out for a Sunday afternoon flight on a small private plane. Suddenly, the plane developed engine trouble.

In spite of the best efforts of the pilot, the plane started to go down. Finally, the pilot grabbed a parachute, yelled to the passengers that they had better jump, and then bailed out.

Unfortunately, there were only three parachutes remaining. The doctor grabbed one, said "I'm a doctor, I save lives. So I must live," and jumped out.

The lawyer then said, "I'm a lawyer, and lawyers are the smartest people in the world. I deserve to live." He also grabbed a parachute and jumped.

The priest looked at the little boy and said, "My son, I've lived a long and full life. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. Take the last parachute and live in peace."

The little boy handed the parachute back to the priest and said, "Not to worry, Father. The 'smartest man in the world' just took off with my back pack."

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

When I'm 64

That's today. Two and a half hours into the tenth of August in the year 1948, I took my first breaths. When I was ten, Paul McCartney wrote this song for me saying I would grow into it. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of genius. That's all.

Although Lennon gets a bit of credit too for some reason, it's really Paul's song. He wrote it when he was just 16. The Beatles released it much later on their 1967 album, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

     When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now
     Will you still be sending me a valentine,
          birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
     If I'd been out 'til quarter to three, would you lock the door?
     Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

     You'll be older too
     Ah, and if you say the word, I could stay with you

     I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone
     You can knit a sweater by the fireside,
          Sunday mornings, go for a ride
     Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more?
     Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

     Every summer we can rent a cottage
     In the Isle of Wight if it's not to, dear
     We shall scrimp and save
     Ah, grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck and Dave

     Send me a postcard, drop me a line stating point of view
     Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
          yours sincerely wasting away
     Give me your answer, fill in a form, mine forever more
     Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

I embedding this cover rather than a Beatles ripoff because it's so well done. Enjoy, and here's what the performer says:

"Just as was done on the original recording, I performed the song in the key of C and then sped up the final mix by approximately a half-step. I'm playing and singing all the parts. What you see in this video are the actual performances as I recorded them. There is no "lip-syncing" or miming."

{poetically plagiarized} 7: Subraman

I came across this poem and its poet last year as I rummaged in some dusty corner of the internet. Her work was instantly comfortable to me, and this work offered a rhythm and in particular an imagery that moved me, as poetry should.

TGB  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Classical Indian Explanation: Music

past the hippies
past Ravi Shankar
eons before
when the first Asian snake
came alive
stiffened with sound
through some empty shell
some hollow wood
some emptiness

the snake
was not so much charmed
as listening intently
to the accidental flute
to that which he knew
must be female
its empty insides
calling him
with breath music

and he joined in
for awhile
finding a range of sounds
he’d never heard
then peace

and a new religion
practiced in places
where snakes are holy
and music
is written in his tongue

by Belinda Subraman

{essential truths} Dreams

Unless you work for a very unusual company,

no one is going to pay you

to believe in the power of your dreams.

after Demotivators

Through The Looking-Glass

I am often reminded how much I value words and how much I enjoy seeing and hearing them used well. So today I find myself thinking about words – the ways they embrace us and the ways we use them to embrace our world.

It’s true; I do love words. I love language. In my mind it is the crowning intellectual achievement of humankind. Just try thinking without using words. Never again in our lifetimes will we achieve anything as complex and profound as our ability to share what is essentially an infinity of shades of meaning. Furthermore we are able to do this in a novel fashion each time – even if we wish to express exactly the same message. It is a unique gift although a good friend reminds me that there are many ways to communicate the experiences we share. Some use words, and some do not.

Language is also a gift most of us develop with minimal effort. No one teaches us that plurals can be created by adding an “s.” No one teaches us that adding “-ed” to verbs will usually result in the past tense. We simply abstract those rules of grammar by listening to those around us. Young children often say “foots” or “goed” instead of “feet” or “went.” They didn’t hear those words; they just figured it out. That’s remarkable! Of course, they have to learn later that there are exceptions to many of the rules.

I love that I can select from among a million words, that I can play with the order of those words, and that I can ignore or embrace grammatical convention as I wish. What I find truly amazing is that I can further nuance my meaning by choosing what not to say – in the same way visual artists use negative space as a key element of composition, regardless of their medium. And how wonderful it is that my expressions actually have moods!

Unfortunately with language sophistication so central to our human-ness, there is an unpleasant reality: we are likely to be judged throughout life by our ability to communicate or by the way we communicate in spite of the fact that we are only just beginning to document the diversity of the ways in which people communicate.

In our ignorance of that, we are quick to judge people and make unfounded assumptions about the intellects of those who use language differently, use a different grammar, or use different forms of communication. Learning not to do so is perhaps the most difficult learning of all because it requires patience and an understanding of their language and perhaps their culture too.

Those are far rarer skills, but there are some who are beginning to teach us. Tracy Thresher and Larry Bissonnette, for example, are two middle-aged men with autism, and they are travelling the world determined to put a new face on autism. "With limited speech, they both faced lives of social isolation in mental institutions or adult disability centers. When they learned as adults to communicate by typing, their lives changed dramatically." In Wretches & Jabberers they document some of their journey to change attitudes - especially attitudes concerning disability and intelligence.

In their film and in person, they share their humor, humility, warmth, and intelligence. In the past far too many of us would have never given ourselves the chance to get to know them as the remarkable individuals they are. Today their tour continues as they promote the film and extend their efforts to teach us that there are many ways to communicate if we are only willing to listen.

Get to know them. Embrace difference. Their message will change you and how you think about communication. And for the better. In spite of the joy I experience when anyone uses "my" language deftly or gracefully or soaringly, I must admit it is but one style of communication, and there are many. As long as I can connect and share experiences with a fellow traveller on life's journey, nothing else really matters.

TGB

{picture perfect} Eilean Donan

Copyright © 2005 Thomas G. Brown

Eilean Donan is a small island in Loch Duich,
in the western Highlands of Scotland not far from Skye.

The Vikings called Skye 'the Cloud.'

In Gaelic, it becomes Eilean a' Cheo - the Isle of Mist.

Eilean Donan Castle was founded in the 13th century
but has been in ruins since the Jacobite rebellion of 1719.

A Cat's View Of Creation

On the first day of creation, God created the cat.

On the second day, God created man to serve the cat.

On the third day, God created all the animals of the earth to serve as potential food for the cat.

On the fourth day, God created honest toil so that man could labor for the good of the cat.

On the fifth day, God created the sparkle ball so that the cat might or might not play with it.

On the sixth day, God created veterinary science to keep the cat healthy and the man broke.

On the seventh day, God tried to rest, but he had to scoop the litter box.

Author Unknown   

Tommy Two Shirts

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Except ... I always wanted a nickname. To my parents I was Thomas. To my pre-adulthood friends I was Tommy. I still am in both cases. Then sometime in college I became Thom - with an "h." I mean, come on! Tom Brown? How pedestrian can one get? How prosaic? Surely an "h" would set me apart from the crowd. I would be Some-body - accent on the Some.

Maybe. Then I married a first generation Italian-American and was submerged in a huge loving extended family. In theory and certainly according to stereotype, every Italian had a nickname. Tutto hanno un nome. Not, however, in my new family. I heard them refer to others with nicknames but not themselves. And we have all heard these nicknames. Snips. Luigi One Leg. Salvatore Four Eyes. The Quill. The Lemming. Freddo Fancy Pants. Or pick almost any Godfather character.

I wanted a nickname, but no one ever gave me one - although I had high hopes for a brief period after the film Mickie Blue Eyes was released. Didn't happen. I wasn't to be Tommy Blue Eyes, but I always kept my ear tuned for a nimble comment that might be used as a seed. I was looking for something based in truth but with a clever ring to it. All I knew for sure was that I didn't want to be The Professor - which I did occasionally hear. It sounded far too sinister - too many students never heard from again.

Then it happened. A couple of years ago I was visiting an old high school friend in my hometown, and he recalled the day I came to school wearing not one but two button-down collar shirts. I remember that day, but I'm not sure why I did it. I obviously thought I looked hunky (that's with a "u" not an "o"), and I have to admit that models today wear similar layered looks. That, however, was over 40 years ago. I guess I was ahead of my time. Way ahead. I'm cool like that.

So there you have it - I am Tommy Two Shirts. Of course, no one knows that, and no one calls me that. Nevertheless, I think it has a just the right qualcosa.

Next? I always wanted a sandwich named after me ...

TtsB  

{poetically plagiarized} 6: Simic

The Bather

Where the path to the lake twists out of sight,
A puff of dust, the kind bare feet make running,
Is what I saw in the dying light,
Night swooping down everywhere else.

A low branch heavy with leaves
Swaying momentarily where the shade
Lay thickest, some late bather
Disrobing right there for a quick dip--

(Or my solitude playing a trick on me?)
Pinned hair coming undone, soon to float
As she turns on her back, letting
The dozy current take her as it wishes

Beyond the last drooping branch
To where the sky opens
Black as the water under her white arms,
In the deepening night, deepening hush,

The treetops like charred paper edges,
Even the insects oddly reclusive
While I strained to hear a splash,
Or glimpse her running back to her clothes . . .

And when I did not; I just sat there.
The rare rush of wind in the leaves
Still fooling me now and then,
Until the chill made me go in.

Charles Simic, 2001                    

in AGNI 53                    

{essential truths} Birds

The wet bird never flies alone at night.

Unknown Photographer