This gallery contains 1 photo.
In trying to render emotion in faces, I find it interesting how similar smiling is to weeping. The difference seems to lie in the eyes more than in the mouth.
“In Memory of W. B. Yeats,” poem by W. H. Auden, poets.org This poem has several “movements,” like a symphony. I marvel at its discursive tone — “You were silly like us” — until the last stanza, where it becomes … Continue reading
Fay Dawne Burmeister was valedictorian the year Boog Jeeters got his lacerated kidney in the game against Horne. When Boog was born, Lonnie wanted to call him Booger. Can you feature that? Booger Jeeters. Reba wouldn’t have it, said no … Continue reading
Sir Alistair Chichester is in the habit of quaffing two pints of bitter at The Thane of Thoth every afternoon from 3 to 4 p.m., excepting Sundays. Each pint costs a quid tuppence. (Sir Alistair, of course, is indifferent to … Continue reading
mistery … (Eliot) “In the figure of the monster from outer space, the freakish, the ugly and the predatory all converge — and provide a fantasy target for righteous bellicosity to discharge itself, and for the aesthetic enjoyment of suffering … Continue reading
This gallery contains 1 photo.
In trying to render emotion in faces, I find it interesting how similar smiling is to weeping. The difference seems to lie in the eyes more than in the mouth.
“For me, poetry proliferates and flourishes in the intellect’s blind spot. But you have to have the intellect first; you can’t skip that step. I find intelligence to be most interesting when it’s tested — not when it’s challenged, but … Continue reading
To a Friend
8-12-2012 “I need to return to it at a quieter time.” Lets have this understanding, though. Never give anything I send or link you to more than a moment of your time unless you really want to. And if you … Continue reading →