I feel like you friend. The autumn wind blows clouds about the sky.
I feel like you friend. Grass turns brown. Leaves fall.
I was young only a little while.
I feel alive in the blue morning, as if someone is about to visit.
I feel like you friend. The autumn wind blows clouds about the sky.
I feel like you friend. Grass turns brown. Leaves fall.
I was young only a little while.
I feel alive in the blue morning, as if someone is about to visit.
See Al Franken's important message at Huffington Post:
This week, the free and open Internet millions of Americans have come to depend on is under attack.
AL FRANKEN: Net Neutrality Is Under Attack… Again
I've said that net neutrality is the most important free speech issue of our time. It's true. If Republicans have their way, large corporations won't just have the loudest voices in the room. They'll be able to effectively silence everyone else.
Sent from my iPhone
The following story at Huffington Post convinces me that the utter decline of our nation has already occured, that we're living in the greasy and smeared streets of what once was a decent nation:
Here's the opening of the Huff Post article:
"KPHO in Phoenix reports that a Facebook group is offering parents the opportunity to receive lollipops in the mail that have allegedly been infected with chicken pox. The parents seeking these disease-riden sweets want their children to get chicken pox when they're young so they can become immune to the disease and avoid getting it later in life.
KPHO also found parents looking for people to send measles, mumps and rubella."
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To arrive in the fluid air armed with the gentle lunacy of dying, that is the art.
There is no other. Here on a Tuesday like all the others,
Here in the shadow season I whisper his name.
Vallejo, I think you are the moon
Caught in the branches of the lonely birch at dawn.
Here is a photo of my friend Gary Whittington with my guide dog Nira outside a NYC pub, after the Iowa Hawkeyes defeated the Michigan Wolverines yesterday. There are bars in NY devoted to just about any sporting culture. There's even a Boston Red Sox drinking establishment. You can pretty well bet that there's no New York Yankees pub in Boston. Here is "Herky the Hawk" on the corner of 2nd Avenue and 50 something. Nira seems unimpressed. It's hard to impress a globe trotting guide dog.
As for me, I'm endlessly impressed by Gary who is running today in the NY marathon–his 6th. He will likely finish the event with a time somewhere around 3 hours and 20 minutes. Not bad for a 56 year old dude who works by day as an attorney in Cedar Rapids, IA. Notice his fancy forward stride running shoes. Nowadays he's into barefoot running. He also runs stage races. Two years ago he ran across Costa Rica. Gary is one of my heroes because he has tremendous compassion and a superb intelligence and he thinks Rick Perry is a walking toxin.
I will meet Gary today after the race. And the amazing thing is that he will still want to walk around New York after running all the boroughs.
I have many friends in the New York metro area who I'd like to see. In particular I'd like to see my friend Bill who hosts the blog "Bad Cripple" but this trip is too quick. I have to come back here for a disability pals get together and now that I know that Syracuse University has its own center on E 61st St, I think this will be possible. I'm thinking about a disability studies related event in NY. No Herky the Hawkeye for that crowd. Disability studies needs its own mascot. Here's to the fighting crips!
SK
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:New York City
Driving in a Car
Did anyone notice the Troll in the high autumn field?
He was like a cricket, rubbing his legs in the last warm sun,
Really, that was all, the sun like tea in a glass, the old magic body staying warm.
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
This is a recipe. Kick at your glass house while singing old Scandinavian folk song. Add an optical splinter, image of circus elephants lumbering down main street. Throw in a pearl. If you have a leftover memory of teenage glory, toss it in. I remember dancing with a mannequin after hours in a shop, just for the amusement of my friends. Stir the odd angles of existence with a thermometer. Invite your ancestors.
Notice if your sleeves seem longer or shorter.
My friend has dog ghosts in his house. He does not feel haunted he says. One can surmise that dog ghosts have no envy. In life dogs only wanted what was coming to them. In life a dog has appetite, wishes, tall grass, clotted fragments, serviceable memories, instincts, and fast dreams. But no vituperative ideas. The latter may belong to the cat ghosts. The dog spirits aren't saying. They are stretched out in the sunbeams in what we know is a very real house.
Outside the hotel with my guide dog. I had no choice bot to have her relieve herself in a stripped flower bed–no flowers there, just dirt unplanted. The door man screamed at me, then blew his whistle like the Keystone cops. I ignored him. Old civil rights move: stay unengaged.
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Chicago