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When was the last time you...

...laughed out loud at something you read on the Internet?
It happens frequently thanks to the many witticisms viewed on my friends list. Today I laughed at the audacity and stupidity of Brian Doyle, the Dept. of Homeland Security asshat, arrested in an internet underage sex sting.

...said “I love you” to someone?
To my sweet Juannie and the pupper-doodles all the time.

...sang along with a song?
I sang out loud to my new all-girls mix this afternoon. I am working all alone at my old desk and took advantage of the solitude.

...paid someone a compliment?

...received a compliment?
This morning.

...saw a movie that was really moving?
It wasn’t a movie but this week’s episode of Lost really got to me. The look on Libby’s face at the end was hardcore.

...read a poem?
This morning.
Encounter by Czeslaw Milosz

We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.
And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.
That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

...learned a new skill?
A new skill I want to learn is how to use Photoshop. I must acquire it first.

...saw a band play live?
I saw phoenix_anew’s boyfriend, Jack Locke, play a few weeks back. Great music and great fun!

...got in touch with someone you haven’t seen since high school?
I ran into a dear friend I haven’t seen since early college days at a parade during Mardi Gras.

Today while singing to Juannie and the dogs out in the backyard.

...felt the sun on your face, and noticed it?
Late yesterday afternoon while I was at Zephyr Field.



( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 7th, 2006 08:12 pm (UTC)
I saw Milosz read when I was at Vanderbilt in 1987. He signed my copy of his Selected Poems. It was in my bookcase downstairs.

Song on the End of the World

On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through fields under their umbrellas
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
There will be no other end of the world.
There will be no other end of the world.

-- Czeslaw Milosz
Apr. 8th, 2006 09:24 am (UTC)
Simple scenes made powerful and memorable by his descriptions of them. I love him.
Apr. 7th, 2006 08:13 pm (UTC)
and another:

On Angels

All was taken away from you: white dresses,
wings, even existence.
Yet I believe you,

There, where the world is turned inside out,
a heavy fabric embroidered with stars and beasts,
you stroll, inspecting the trustworthy seems.

Shorts is your stay here:
now and then at a matinal hour, if the sky is clear,
in a melody repeated by a bird,
or in the smell of apples at close of day
when the light makes the orchards magic.

They say somebody has invented you
but to me this does not sound convincing
for the humans invented themselves as well.

The voice -- no doubt it is a valid proof,
as it can belong only to radiant creatures,
weightless and winged (after all, why not?),
girdled with the lightening.

I have heard that voice many a time when asleep
and, what is strange, I understood more or less
an order or an appeal in an unearthly tongue:

day draws near
another one
do what you can.

-- Czeslaw Milosz
Apr. 8th, 2006 09:25 am (UTC)
"...when the light makes the orchards magic." Wow!
Apr. 8th, 2006 12:49 pm (UTC)
of course, it should be SHORT is your stay here... I thought I'd cleaned up all the typos in that, but magic orchards or no, shorts is not our stay...
Apr. 9th, 2006 10:01 am (UTC)
Well, we do wear shorts all the time here so it makes sense for New Orleans readers. ;-)
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )


romance, flower
Fleur de Dee

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