Archives for the day of: December 1, 2016

Lovely, just lovely. ~~dru~~

THANK YOU, my dear BB for a GREAT ending to a relatively bad day. ~~dru~~

bluebird of bitterness

From The Miami Herald.

When the repo man showed up, “Baby” lost her ride.

The little Pomeranian dog loved to curl up on 82-year-old Stanford Kipping’s lap when he and his wife Patty, 70, went for a drive. But in recent months a sharp increase in the cost of prescription medicine and other bills were more than a match for the couple’s fixed incomes. With several $95 a month car payments left unpaid on their 1998 Buick, the repo man, Jim Ford of Belleville, stopped his tow truck in front of their house. 

Ford, 41, ought to have turned into a cynical, bitter man, he said. After all, he had been shot at several times when repossessing vehicles, including once when he was lying on the ground hooking up a tow chain, and a man let fly with a rifle inches from his head.

“I never even saw him but…

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I’m having a bad day but it looks like Manuel was too. This poetry is just so representative of the way I feel today. UP down, UP down., UP down; the last down is because they water works dept replaced my 60 year old water main and now my out side sewer is backing up. Money, Money, Money, chink.
“To lose the brightness of the colors,
The sensation that somehow everything becomes dim.”
THANK YOU emothons for saying it just the way i would have…had i had a voice that works. ~~dru~~


To lose the brightness of the colors,
The sensation that somehow everything becomes dim.
At times it is cause we lost a lover,
Others cause we can just feel our surroundings cold and grim.
The vividness of color slowly disappears,
It makes everything feel part of a fears.

As our inner light loses the power of pure illumination,
We lose our strength, our health, our vigor,
Just like the tulips have faded, it is a different sensation,
But a killer none the less, a sensation that makes you shiver.
Just like the tulips lost their freshness,
So can we lose our edges and be left breathless.

The fading of it all wants to be comprehended,
To disappear or die gradually is not what is intended,
Even if the venom of the past clogs the senses.
But like an image on and old Television set,
Always disappearing; gradually,
Inevitably everything…

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Interesting and with the cold crisp air of Autumn and the almost larger than life full-moons we’ve been having I enjoyed reading this and hope you all will too. ~~dru~~

Interesting Literature

A summary of an early English moon poem

‘Mon in the Mone’ (i.e. ‘Man in the Moon’) is a medieval poem dating from the early fourteenth century, a good half a century before Geoffrey Chaucer, the Pearl poet, John Gower, and the Gawain poet all arrived on the scene and English poetry really came into its own. ‘Man in the Moon’ is a baffling and mysterious little lyric, so a brief summary and analysis are provided below. First, though, the poem:

Mon in the mone stond and strit;
On his botforke his burthen he bereth.
It is muche wonder that he na doun slyt;
For doute leste he valle he shoddreth ant shereth.
When the forst freseth muche chele he byd.

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Even for So.California it is more than just slightly chilly. ~~dru~~

Art by Rob Goldstein

Autumn in San Francisco set to jazz

Photography and Video by Rob Goldstein
(C) Rob Goldstein 2016

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Happy (but) sad December 2016. The picture will cheer you up and the song may bring you down…..sigh

Move the Chair

A neighbor’s maple tree, I believe had the loveliest array of color-autumn, while coming late, is still hanging around.

Image taken and processed with iPhone 7 using iColorama, and Stackables

For today: Tumble

Tumble Tumble

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