This is hilarious. What'd we do before videos of wild animals with sound bites....
ANIMAL CRACKERS (The Best of BBC One's Walk On The Wild Side) [Shamrock Edit] (HQ)
January 31, 2014
“Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance.” ― Carl Sandburg
Sometimes I dabble in poetry.
Other times I have been drunk in poetry.
Some dabblings can be read here: Parchment Anthology
Some dabblings can be read here: Nekot's Tokens
Some dabblings can be read nowhere in public view.
Poetry at Nekot's Tokens is arranged in a type of backward chronological order according to seasons of life....at least through 2010. The year of "Emancipation" appears to be the most prolific year, thus far.
I received a bad case of the flu this past Tuesday evening. By the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I was downright scared. Methotrexate and the flu can be a fatal combination. I know, I know; the flu alone can be fatal...so can driving.
I probably read too much...but probably not. (There I go again, writing ambiguously.)
I haven't had a cold or flu since I don't know when.
Because of snow and ice, doctors' offices opened late. Folks weren't able to reach them on non-emergency phone lines until after 10:00 AM, Wednesday morning. I was popping Tamiflu by 1:00 PM. It has helped.
I had to pull out my nebulizer which I haven't needed since July, 2006. The albuterol has given me the jitters and maybe a bit of insomnia. The coughing has given me sore ribs. I'll make sure to not lift anything heavy; I don't want to hear that *pop* *pop* sound of cracking ribs.
Other times I have been drunk in poetry.
Some dabblings can be read here: Parchment Anthology
Some dabblings can be read here: Nekot's Tokens
Some dabblings can be read nowhere in public view.
Poetry at Nekot's Tokens is arranged in a type of backward chronological order according to seasons of life....at least through 2010. The year of "Emancipation" appears to be the most prolific year, thus far.
- Reality: 2010
- Reason & Rhyme: 2009
- Hmmm...: 2008
- Emancipation: 2007
- Emergence: 2004 - 2006
- Awakening: 1999 - 2003
- Suppressformity: 1982 - 1998
- Eureka: 1978 - 1981
I received a bad case of the flu this past Tuesday evening. By the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I was downright scared. Methotrexate and the flu can be a fatal combination. I know, I know; the flu alone can be fatal...so can driving.
I probably read too much...but probably not. (There I go again, writing ambiguously.)
I haven't had a cold or flu since I don't know when.
Because of snow and ice, doctors' offices opened late. Folks weren't able to reach them on non-emergency phone lines until after 10:00 AM, Wednesday morning. I was popping Tamiflu by 1:00 PM. It has helped.
I had to pull out my nebulizer which I haven't needed since July, 2006. The albuterol has given me the jitters and maybe a bit of insomnia. The coughing has given me sore ribs. I'll make sure to not lift anything heavy; I don't want to hear that *pop* *pop* sound of cracking ribs.
January 26, 2014
Lions & Piranhas
Earlier this evening as I pondered blog publishing which allows the world to peek in, I got an image of myself in a cave; in a cave with lions.
I was not protected in my cave; there was no gate at the entrance.
I had allowed the lions access...not by personal invitation, but rather by an open cave door.
The lions were all female; none had the beautiful male manes.
There were about five of them.
They prowled around the cave observing me.
I stood observing them.
It's like they were checking to see if I'd flinch or run; like they were checking my motive or my character.
Was I for real?
Was I genuine?
Did I have integrity?
No words were exchanged between myself and the possible predators.
Then they got bored and left.
Tonight, a few hours after my in-the-cave-with-lions heart-head image, I read the following from a blog post by Marta Szabo.
"...I guess that’s why many people are afraid to write probing memoir. They know the piranhas are out there. Piranhas don’t scare me though. And they certainly do not scare Ingrid Betancourt. That’s one reason why her book is so good."
I guess blogs are like caves with open entrances.
I was not protected in my cave; there was no gate at the entrance.
I had allowed the lions access...not by personal invitation, but rather by an open cave door.
The lions were all female; none had the beautiful male manes.
There were about five of them.
They prowled around the cave observing me.
I stood observing them.
It's like they were checking to see if I'd flinch or run; like they were checking my motive or my character.
Was I for real?
Was I genuine?
Did I have integrity?
No words were exchanged between myself and the possible predators.
Then they got bored and left.
Tonight, a few hours after my in-the-cave-with-lions heart-head image, I read the following from a blog post by Marta Szabo.
"...I guess that’s why many people are afraid to write probing memoir. They know the piranhas are out there. Piranhas don’t scare me though. And they certainly do not scare Ingrid Betancourt. That’s one reason why her book is so good."
I guess blogs are like caves with open entrances.
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