Come on in and talk. Or drop off one of your random bursts of verbal energy -- poem, limerick, story, top ten list, clerihew, essay, alliterative poem, rant, Surrealist or Dadaist poem, parody, cento, dirty joke, amusing syllepsis, dirty syllepsis, haiku, dirty haiku . . . to share.
Recent Posts
- Mass Formation Psychosis https://www.reddit.com/r/IntellectualDarkWeb/comments/q4tuwv/a_conversation_on_mass_formation_with_mattias/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3
- Resist
- There will be no coming back from this
- Everybody Knows
- From Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Gulag Archipelago
- From Václav Havel, The Power of the Powerles
- Petty and Cacciopo on Low-Level Argument Processing
- On the Stupidity of Crowds
- The Grosse Wedding Party (1910)
- Aunt Ida
Categories
- Architecture (11)
- Creative (4)
- Culture and Customs (4)
- Destinations (1)
- Education (2)
- Entertainment (23)
- Family (49)
- Family and friends (2)
- Food and Drink (98)
- Games (3)
- Health (2)
- Herbology (1)
- History (20)
- Home and Garden (17)
- Language (110)
- Literature (21)
- Logic (3)
- Math (5)
- Medieval (49)
- Meteorology and Space (29)
- Military (23)
- Music (43)
- Nature (18)
- Philosophy (8)
- Poetry and Reflections (28)
- Politics (4)
- Postcards (14)
- quiz (8)
- Religion (37)
- Renaissance (2)
- Science (96)
- Sixteenth Century (16)
- Travel and places (1)
- Twentieth Century (8)
- Weblogs (27)
- Weird (16)
« These people are standing on a pipe organ | Main | Gecko Man, Gecko Man, does whatever a gecko can . . . »
Comments
The comments to this entry are closed.
I'd brag about being first, but it isn't fair, with me on the east coast:
A Worn Corduroy Kind of Life
I was traveling back to New Jersey from the New York City area late this evening, and as I came across the George Washington Bridge, along route 95 and then 80, it struck me that somehow this bit of road was a bit like a worn old pair of corduroys.
Worn smooth in some places, patched in others;
Comfortably out of style, with its pink and green Marcal Paper Products sign, and its cylindrical Holiday Inn.
And comfortable in how many times it has taken me home, along with thousands and millions of others, rolling home, year after year, to lives that changed radically over time.
As if to rub it in, the radio started playing Chuck Mangione’s “Give it All you Got” from, what was it? 1970-something. Remember those Olympics? Lake Placid? Long time ago now.
My life is like that. Patched, worn smooth in places. Holes in it where it doesn’t really work right anymore, where you can see layers of something that came before underneath. Funny, half-remembered bits and preserved things that don't really make sense anymore patched in or poking through.
Probably your life is like this too, and if it isn’t, it probably will be.
That is one of the wonderful things about life though, like corduroys and asphalt, it takes patching well, and can take you to places you never imagined, while staying kind of plain and ordinary every step of the way.
May you all, when you look at your life, see it as less worn out, and more worn in, broken in, and comfortable, and may you find many friends and angels among your fellow travelers, friends who appreciate a comfortable old corduroy kind of a life.
Posted by: Locust Eater | April 28, 2007 at 07:02 AM
Morning, all.
Terrific thoughts, Locust Eater. My life seems very broken in, indeed.
Posted by: Scott P | April 28, 2007 at 09:27 AM
perfection
is built on imperfection,
reality
is built on a dream.
hope
resides in all that can be,
love
is built on all three.
michael h
Posted by: m l healey | April 28, 2007 at 10:44 AM
VERY NICE, Michael. Pithy and tightly constructed. I love it.
Posted by: gail | April 28, 2007 at 10:48 AM
I'll post these later on -- kinda busy this morning.
Posted by: gail | April 28, 2007 at 10:49 AM
Locust Eater and Michael... awesome!
Gotta run - I'm doin the Peruvian Scissor dance today.
Posted by: Pixie | April 28, 2007 at 11:45 AM
Be sure to take pictures, Pixie
Posted by: gail | April 28, 2007 at 07:32 PM