Follow this one right through certain doom, folks...
I'll see yall tomorrow!
Slainte!
Cygnus
Taffeta silk day dress, ca. early 1850s.
21 hours ago
30 June 2009
28 June 2009
Mother Ocean
I skimmed my eyes along her surface. Checking out lines and moods.
I walked a while beside her, looking deeper, reading what I could of the currents beneath her surface. Together they could aide in telling me what line to choose-- and cross-- when I at long last breach her...
I found it... picked checkpoints along the way... set out between the two rocks I knew were the portal...
In slow at first, shallow. Feeling the sensation of her temperature change begin to envelop me the deeper I go...
At last, time... under the surface, under that wave, for I want, I need, further out...
And under another, and up breathing, and stroking, and reaching... and another wave, and I am just beyond the breaking point--
And can turn direction, slow and steady the strokes... look for those checkpoints.
Skimming along her surface...the warm-cool sensation of being in her, riding her waves... a bit of surge needed every now and then to get back out of the break where I'd riden her wave for a moment, letting it draw me in, being with and not against...
But this wasn't my time to get out... I have further to go.
Stroking longer now, and longer between drawing in quick breaths that continue to climb audibly with each intake...
And at last, lungs burning, change to a slower stroke, head not under so much, and ride this outer-break and move slowly, inexorably, towards that destination, that shore.
I've let her waves, sometimes cutting across them, sometime paralleling, often riding and seldom working against, but always let her waves wash away what tensions I have.
Tasting her salt, now slowly stroking her surface, I near shallow and more shallowing waters... sand beneath my feet... her body, for I have at last ridden her wave all the way in...
Warm and wet, then a little farther up hot and dry, the sands beneath my feet.
Shore-- that magickal spot that is neither Ocean nor Land, but Both, and a transitional time-place like Dawn, or Dusk...
It was nice, this... contact, this wetting and riding and stroking releasing and grounding ...
Very nice.
I took the drum to the park, played, got lost in rhythm and tone.. lost in the voices the skin makes with varying amounts of hand pressure on her back...
Nice night.
The crescent waxing maiden above, standing by my garden later night listening to the call I have heard for it seems aeons-- that Voice...
I hear it...
I hear the ocean of waves and tides...
I hear it...the rhythm of her pulsing skin...
I hear...Frogs, and Crickets, and that poor mis-timed mocking bird, surely gonna give hisself in song away to that nightowl...
And I hear the background noise... the cars, and the stars, and the sun even now firing some equal portion of her skin, even as I am soon to slumber...
And I KNOW I have been given a Good Day, and Night...
Good day and night, my friends.
Slainte!
Cygnus
I walked a while beside her, looking deeper, reading what I could of the currents beneath her surface. Together they could aide in telling me what line to choose-- and cross-- when I at long last breach her...
I found it... picked checkpoints along the way... set out between the two rocks I knew were the portal...
In slow at first, shallow. Feeling the sensation of her temperature change begin to envelop me the deeper I go...
At last, time... under the surface, under that wave, for I want, I need, further out...
And under another, and up breathing, and stroking, and reaching... and another wave, and I am just beyond the breaking point--
And can turn direction, slow and steady the strokes... look for those checkpoints.
Skimming along her surface...the warm-cool sensation of being in her, riding her waves... a bit of surge needed every now and then to get back out of the break where I'd riden her wave for a moment, letting it draw me in, being with and not against...
But this wasn't my time to get out... I have further to go.
Stroking longer now, and longer between drawing in quick breaths that continue to climb audibly with each intake...
And at last, lungs burning, change to a slower stroke, head not under so much, and ride this outer-break and move slowly, inexorably, towards that destination, that shore.
I've let her waves, sometimes cutting across them, sometime paralleling, often riding and seldom working against, but always let her waves wash away what tensions I have.
Tasting her salt, now slowly stroking her surface, I near shallow and more shallowing waters... sand beneath my feet... her body, for I have at last ridden her wave all the way in...
Warm and wet, then a little farther up hot and dry, the sands beneath my feet.
Shore-- that magickal spot that is neither Ocean nor Land, but Both, and a transitional time-place like Dawn, or Dusk...
It was nice, this... contact, this wetting and riding and stroking releasing and grounding ...
Very nice.
I took the drum to the park, played, got lost in rhythm and tone.. lost in the voices the skin makes with varying amounts of hand pressure on her back...
Nice night.
The crescent waxing maiden above, standing by my garden later night listening to the call I have heard for it seems aeons-- that Voice...
I hear it...
I hear the ocean of waves and tides...
I hear it...the rhythm of her pulsing skin...
I hear...Frogs, and Crickets, and that poor mis-timed mocking bird, surely gonna give hisself in song away to that nightowl...
And I hear the background noise... the cars, and the stars, and the sun even now firing some equal portion of her skin, even as I am soon to slumber...
And I KNOW I have been given a Good Day, and Night...
Good day and night, my friends.
Slainte!
Cygnus
27 June 2009
NOBODY IS...
I would have sung this to you myself, on video, had my camera been working right {HEY!!! Who said "Thank god for small favors!" I HEARD THAT!!!},and not just for the sheer buffoonery of doing so, but given the song's bent it would have been too fun not to...
Well, that and, country western god that Willie be, I feel pretty sure I could carry the tune at least as well-tuned in as Willie did!! ha!
Alas, here's the song been on my mind all afternoon:
It's a musical weekend, and I am going to head down one of the two coming days to swim in the Salt Water gulf... a kind of Physical and Spiritual therapy in the Sunshine.
Enjoy your own, folks... and I'll see ya tomorrow.
Slainte!
Cygnus
Well, that and, country western god that Willie be, I feel pretty sure I could carry the tune at least as well-tuned in as Willie did!! ha!
Alas, here's the song been on my mind all afternoon:
It's a musical weekend, and I am going to head down one of the two coming days to swim in the Salt Water gulf... a kind of Physical and Spiritual therapy in the Sunshine.
Enjoy your own, folks... and I'll see ya tomorrow.
Slainte!
Cygnus
25 June 2009
Light-Hearted Thor's Day
We've had a nice summer thunderstorm roll through the nation's fourth largest city today, wreaking a little havoc with the computer. Just enough rain, really, to raise the humidity enough to match the triple digit temperature...
Speaking of computer havoc-- what in the world happened with last nite's blog here?!? Some were able to read it, others were not...
Clues are still coming in, but I apologize to those who had to read the thing hieroglyphic-style, like a meant-for-your-eyes-only espousal. I reposted it in "humanspeak", but left the original because it was too darned curious (and funny! Mad as I was, I couldn't be kept from laughing!), and because I had a comment or three before I even began to have a clue what in the sam hell MAYBERRY was talking about! ha!
[ON A SERIOUS ASIDE... THOSE OF YOU WHO LIKE YOUR FIRST AMENDMENT 'RIGHT' NEED TO VISIT MAYBERRY'S SITE, AND WRETHA'S AS WELL...]
Anyhow, tonight I thought I'd pass on this bit of insight from my friend Spotted Wolf...
-The Silent generation, people born before 1946.
- The Baby Boomers, people born between 1946 and 1965
- Generation X, people born between 1965 and 1979.
- Generation Y, people born between 1980 and 2009
Why do we call the last one generation Y? I did not know, but a cartoonist explains it eloquently below... Learned something new today!
Thanks, Dennis!
And thank you all for the patience with last nite's fiasco! lol!
Have a great evening, folks!
Slainte!
Cygnus
Speaking of computer havoc-- what in the world happened with last nite's blog here?!? Some were able to read it, others were not...
Clues are still coming in, but I apologize to those who had to read the thing hieroglyphic-style, like a meant-for-your-eyes-only espousal. I reposted it in "humanspeak", but left the original because it was too darned curious (and funny! Mad as I was, I couldn't be kept from laughing!), and because I had a comment or three before I even began to have a clue what in the sam hell MAYBERRY was talking about! ha!
[ON A SERIOUS ASIDE... THOSE OF YOU WHO LIKE YOUR FIRST AMENDMENT 'RIGHT' NEED TO VISIT MAYBERRY'S SITE, AND WRETHA'S AS WELL...]
Anyhow, tonight I thought I'd pass on this bit of insight from my friend Spotted Wolf...
-The Silent generation, people born before 1946.
- The Baby Boomers, people born between 1946 and 1965
- Generation X, people born between 1965 and 1979.
- Generation Y, people born between 1980 and 2009
Why do we call the last one generation Y? I did not know, but a cartoonist explains it eloquently below... Learned something new today!
Thanks, Dennis!
And thank you all for the patience with last nite's fiasco! lol!
Have a great evening, folks!
Slainte!
Cygnus
Why These Things Remind Me Of You
[This was originally done on video, with all pertinent imagery of the garden and the sky and some silly bird being his occasional poetic self. The video BITES-- damned chinese CRAP CAMERA!!! But... I still have words... So, they are here, for you...]
I want you to look at this garden. A seed has been planted. It grows, slow, steady. Strong in good weather, withstanding the bad... and ever continuously producing beautiful fruits...
This is why these things remind me of you; this is why they bespeak of my love for you.
Look now to the blue sky above...
It is vast, expansive... Even more so than the blue tint of our Earth's atmosphere, for it reaches outward past the moon, and the blazing inferno of the sun, and beyond the stars and on unto the very edges of our ever-expanding Universe...
And THIS is why these things remind me of you; THIS is why they aide to project my love for you.
Now, when we describe these things-- gardens, trees, wind, sky-- with words, no matter our adeptness at word-smithery, no matter how much descriptive detail we project-- the essence of the things' beauty, it's depth and fullness of meaning, will NEVER be conveyed as fully as we Experience them in our mind and heart and eyes...
And thus will these three words-- I LOVE YOU-- never approach description of the depth, the beauty, the intensity , of THIS that I feel for you...
Slainte.
Cygnus
I want you to look at this garden. A seed has been planted. It grows, slow, steady. Strong in good weather, withstanding the bad... and ever continuously producing beautiful fruits...
This is why these things remind me of you; this is why they bespeak of my love for you.
Look now to the blue sky above...
It is vast, expansive... Even more so than the blue tint of our Earth's atmosphere, for it reaches outward past the moon, and the blazing inferno of the sun, and beyond the stars and on unto the very edges of our ever-expanding Universe...
And THIS is why these things remind me of you; THIS is why they aide to project my love for you.
Now, when we describe these things-- gardens, trees, wind, sky-- with words, no matter our adeptness at word-smithery, no matter how much descriptive detail we project-- the essence of the things' beauty, it's depth and fullness of meaning, will NEVER be conveyed as fully as we Experience them in our mind and heart and eyes...
And thus will these three words-- I LOVE YOU-- never approach description of the depth, the beauty, the intensity , of THIS that I feel for you...
Slainte.
Cygnus
24 June 2009
Why These Things Remind Me Of You...
[This was originally done on video, with all pertinent imagery of the garden and the sky and some silly bird being his occasional poetic self. The video BITES-- damned chinese CRAP CAMERA!!! But... I still have words... So, they are here, for you...]
I want you to look at this garden. A seed has been planted. It grows, slow, steady. Strong in good weather, withstanding the bad... and ever continuously producing beautiful fruits...
This is why these things remind me of you; this is why they bespeak of my love for you.
Look now to the blue sky above...
It is vast, expansive... Even more so than the blue tint of our Earth's atmosphere, for it reaches outward past the moon, and the blazing inferno of the sun, and beyond the stars and on unto the very edges of our ever-expanding Universe...
And THIS is why these things remind me of you; THIS is why they aide to project my love for you.
Now, when we describe these things-- gardens, trees, wind, sky-- with words, no matter our adeptness at word-smithery, no matter how much descriptive detail we project-- the essence of the things' beauty, it's depth and fullness of meaning, will NEVER be conveyed as fully as we Experience them in our mind and heart and eyes...
And thus will these three words-- I LOVE YOU-- never approach description of the depth, the beauty, the intensity , of THIS that I feel for you...
Slainte.
Cygnus
I want you to look at this garden. A seed has been planted. It grows, slow, steady. Strong in good weather, withstanding the bad... and ever continuously producing beautiful fruits...
This is why these things remind me of you; this is why they bespeak of my love for you.
Look now to the blue sky above...
It is vast, expansive... Even more so than the blue tint of our Earth's atmosphere, for it reaches outward past the moon, and the blazing inferno of the sun, and beyond the stars and on unto the very edges of our ever-expanding Universe...
And THIS is why these things remind me of you; THIS is why they aide to project my love for you.
Now, when we describe these things-- gardens, trees, wind, sky-- with words, no matter our adeptness at word-smithery, no matter how much descriptive detail we project-- the essence of the things' beauty, it's depth and fullness of meaning, will NEVER be conveyed as fully as we Experience them in our mind and heart and eyes...
And thus will these three words-- I LOVE YOU-- never approach description of the depth, the beauty, the intensity , of THIS that I feel for you...
Slainte.
Cygnus
23 June 2009
Carlin on Religion
I should probably swap posts tonight and have this clip on the "other" site and that question here-- but it isn't the way I thought it today, so shant I do it this eve!
I'm going to be away from the computer for the better part of the evening, addressing what I hope are the last vestiges of my poor MollyMaroon's malfeasance-- and if that works out I'll test-drive her to a family/ friend's house to return some borrowed video games.
I'll be back tomorrow, but feel free to stay a while and enjoy one of the best comedic commentators ever-- George Carlin!!!
The clip is a bit long, but give it at least a two-minute look-see.
I'll see y'all soon!
Slainte!
Cygnus
I'm going to be away from the computer for the better part of the evening, addressing what I hope are the last vestiges of my poor MollyMaroon's malfeasance-- and if that works out I'll test-drive her to a family/ friend's house to return some borrowed video games.
I'll be back tomorrow, but feel free to stay a while and enjoy one of the best comedic commentators ever-- George Carlin!!!
The clip is a bit long, but give it at least a two-minute look-see.
I'll see y'all soon!
Slainte!
Cygnus
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
