Are you listening?

What are you hearing?

Do you have favorite sounds?

Here are a few we probably all share:

birdsong on a cool spring morning

laughter – especially that of children

a gentle breeze rustling the leaves in the trees

water running over rocks in a stream

ocean waves

There are also sounds that some like and others do not:

the roar of an engine

barking dogs

cicadas

crickets

a creaking door

There are also sounds none of us wants to hear

but I will not list those here.

. . . . . . .

We have learned to organize sound.

We call it music.

It is ingenious.

Strategic placement of pitches, rhythms, durations

singly and together

the careful choreography of

clashes and clangs

clanks and crashes

to create a combustible cacophony.

It is music.

The bringing together of sounds

to produce something startling

to pluck at our emotions.

It can lift us up or bring us down,

make us happy or sad

or scared or angry

or give us a headache

or soothe and calm us.

Music is powerful.

The compiled and curated sounds

confirm our existence.

The resonation reaffirms our reality.

Right now.

What are you hearing?

Are you listening?

This is to spread the word and encourage all of you who are not already following Timothy Price’s Owl Family Saga – as well as his night sky photos, commentary, cat gang shenanigans, flowers, cranes, mountains, poetry… not to mention parodies and other original music… you should be following him.

Off Center & Not Even

Jupiter moved further around to the right of Venus this morning. Mars and Saturn are really spreading out.

Venus and Jupiter with three of Jupiter’s moons.

Owlet profile and then giving the Paparazzo “mad dogs.”

D-Wowl looking cool.

D-Wowl scratching an itch and nibbling on his talons.

Wowlet action series.

Tonight’s sliver moon.

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Earl and Opal. Gotta love ’em. Thanks again, B.O.B.

bluebird of bitterness

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diawka/123RF, atlanticview.com

when the world’s incessant insanity

rudely intrudes upon your peace

indulge in a leisurely detour

follow a familiar footpath

take that proverbial stroll

down a famous lane lined with memories

to remember who you are

and from whence you came

remember

the family gathered

laughter, singing, hope

the arrival of the next generation

one by one

sunny days and walks along the beach

cool breezes, autumn leaves

flowers in the spring

robins and cardinals and hummingbirds

fireflies, campfires, mountain hikes

Grandma’s best pies fresh from the oven

and warm chocolate chip cookies

meeting that certain someone

that first kiss

saying, “I do.”

. . . . . . .

The lists of good are infinite

and available

whenever you need them

right there

in your memory

. . . . . . .

Remember the good

These are just funny. Love ’em! Thank you B.O.B.!

bluebird of bitterness

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By Oddish at drawception.com

or rather,

truth be told,

something more like

An Uncompromising Declaration of Eternal No-Holds-Barred War Against Snails And All Their Sticky, Slimy Kin Forever And Ever Amen

. . . . . . .

Full Disclosure:

I kill every snail I see

every time

immediately

with extreme prejudice

. . . . . . .

As it happens

I like my flowers a whole great massive bunch more than

any shred of affection I might conceivably generate

for those alien destructo slime-machines.

. . . . . . .

They are

to coin a phrase

“evil, wicked, mean, bad, and nasty”

. . . . . . .

I care not

how much theoretical cuteness

may be lavished upon them

by eco-nerds

and deranged Hollywood cartoonists

. . . . . . .

No wonder

the French

parlayed the demise of snails

into a lucrative culinary delicacy

(but, yeah, blech, btw)

. . . . . . .

Those mucilaginous foliage-slicers

will systematically destroy my garden

if I let them

. . . . . . .

I’m not going to let them.

They are vile.

Lights out, Snails!

guard.io/blog

once upon a time

the internet and its lingo

weren’t a thing

but now

nearly everyone

it seems

knows their http from their xyz

time was

pop-up menu and mouseover

were things

you might encounter

at your local diner

now your local diner

delivers

and you can order online

from your oh-so-smart phone

and pay digitally

including the tip

used to be

refrigerators did not

compile a grocery list for you

and audibly warn you

when you are almost out of milk

and your doorbell

didn’t used to

send you video

when your local diner

delivers your order

meanwhile

your favorite tv shows

and the latest movies

and the hottest music

and every stripe of the newest news

and instructional videos

and destructional videos

and memes…

shocking, droll, disgusting, hilarious

oh, the myriad memes

and now

if the internet suddenly went away

would we…

could we…

seriously, could we?

I can’t even. Michael Jordahl knocks it out of the park with this simple, beautiful piece. I confess to lingering awestruckedness.

michaeljordahl

I reached into spacetime

And grasped the tiny hand

Of the crying little boy

Who was made to go away.

“Who are you?” I asked.

In an oddly familiar voice,

He answered, “Goodness.”

Suddenly I remembered.

I pulled him to me

And we became one–

Again.

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owlcation.com

I just finished reading Jerome Weidman’s ‘Other People’s Money’ (Random House, 1967). It is a good read, although I found the culmination of the story somewhat less than satisfying. However, I think I understood the overarching point of the tale in the end. Anyway, this post is not meant to be a review of the book.

In the paragraph I include below, the author alternates between simile and metaphor. The affect is honestly a bit startling at first, even confusing; then it is just amusing. Nevertheless, the reader ends up with a pretty clear (and colorful!) image of what is being described.

Near the end of the book, a new character is introduced. The author’s physical description of this character struck me as some of the most unlikely strings of similes and metaphors I have ever read, just about. They definitely made me smile. In fact, I actually laughed out loud, and my wife asked me what I was laughing about; so of course I read her the passage, which I am about to share with you. Hopefully, you will find it to be an exemplary (and amusing) pile of similes and metaphors.

The setting for this scene is a country estate in rural England in 1939.

Here it is:

“Leaning far across the green table, delicately fingering his cue into position, was a man in orange-brown tweed knickerbockers who had clearly borrowed his face from Clive Brook. One eye was covered with a black patch. A rimless monocle was set as firmly in the folds of skin around his other eye as an imitation ruby in the navel of a belly dancer. Through the bit of glistening glass he regarded the white ball with all the fierceness of a district officer in a Kipling story examining a Hindu cutpurse brought into his presence by the policeman who had caught him in the act of rifling the cashbox in the Officers’ Club. The cue moved back, then streaked forward. The white ball shot across the table. There was a click, followed by a series of muted thuds. The monocle moved like a swaying punkah, following the intricacies of the shot. Then the man stood erect, and Victor understood why a country that on the map of the world was no larger than a gravy stain on a tablecloth had ended up owning most of the tablecloth: the look with which Sir Iselip Nolan stared out at the world through his good eye was that of a property holder in Darien, Connecticut, regarding a group of Talmudic students settling on his lawn for a kosher barbecue.”

. . . . . . . . . . . .

So. What do y’all think? Have you ever…?

gethealthystayhealthy.com

music has a way

of getting inside us

it enters through our ears

(most commonly)

but it is soon dancing through our veins

toying with our minds

percussing our nerve-endings

pounding and tapping

smacking and shaking

prompting goosebumps

and sometimes tears

or laughter

or both at once

music makes us feel good

feel happy

even when it is making us sad

music has a way

it is a full-body experience

it tingles and it jangles

gets us clapping, tapping, dancing, swaying, floating

singing along, humming

whooping and hollering

and smiling

like it’s the first time our lips

have reached for the sky

music has a way

of turning us around

of lifting our heads

of stopping us in our tracks

it captures our attention

whether it is a single voice

or a solitary instrument

a small ensemble

or a huge orchestra

or a 100-voice choir

we hear, we listen

we feel, we shimmer

from the inside out

with the glorious transcendent gift of music

music has a way

it lures us

and we are its happy captives

stunned by its power

yet serene, surrounded by literal waves of sound

soothing, exhilarating, satisfying

music has a way

sometimes it interrupts

sometimes it is barely there

yet it will resound in our memories

taking us back

immediately

to a long ago place and time

reminding us

visiting us

escorting us

being there for us

music has a way