Inspiring. Much more inspiring than those “Raptors” vs. those “Bucks.” (And what’s with that vaguely racist name anyway?)
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Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
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This is why beach volleyball was invented.
“Spanning the globe..”
Bucks? Flat racist:
from The Congo: Section 1
By Vachel Lindsay
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY
Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,
Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,
Pounded on the table,
Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,
Hard as they were able,
Boom, boom, BOOM,
With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.
THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.
I could not turn from their revel in derision.
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.
Then along that riverbank
A thousand miles
Tattooed cannibals danced in files;
Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song
And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.
And “BLOOD” screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors,
“BLOOD” screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors,
“Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle,
Harry the uplands,
Steal all the cattle,
Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle,
Bing.
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,”
A roaring, epic, rag-time tune
From the mouth of the Congo
To the Mountains of the Moon.
Death is an Elephant,
Torch-eyed and horrible,
Foam-flanked and terrible.
BOOM, steal the pygmies,
BOOM, kill the Arabs,
BOOM, kill the white men,
HOO, HOO, HOO.
Listen to the yell of Leopold’s ghost
Burning in Hell for his hand-maimed host.
Hear how the demons chuckle and yell
Cutting his hands off, down in Hell.
Listen to the creepy proclamation,
Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation,
Blown past the white-ants’ hill of clay,
Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play: —
“Be careful what you do,
Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all of the other
Gods of the Congo,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.”
Source: The Congo (1915)
Uh, let’s see…
She can vault my…
no, no, no.
I got a pole for…
No, doesn’t work.
There’s a one-liner just waiting here somewhere.
JWM
succulent
A sport made for spectating if there ever was one!
Stunning!
I ran track in HS and into college (developed serious tendonitis in both shins). If there were distractions as shown in this video, I would have been ejected from the team due to not completing the workouts. I really enjoy watching athletic women in action. Those shorts——WOW! No fat girls either!!! Difficult to vault if fat.
Excellent item to post Gerard.
Pleasant. Entertaining. Pleasantly entertaining. Entertainingly pleasant.
Only one lefty?
That Charles, always HAS to drag politics into it.
Some people….
When I want to see cute rear ends, I watch baseball. Most of you guys don’t come close to being worth watching.
This figures that it was Brasil. I had the good fortune to spend 6 months working in Brasil… in an office that was adjacent to a college. It was as close to paradise as a man could get. Unfortunately, I was already married, otherwise, I would have never come back to the US.
Football anyone?
https://youtu.be/KvXSlgCMfho
Ha, ha PA Cat. About the difference between men and women and those old man butts, frogs and double knit pants.
https://youtu.be/riVntlVtRbk
I am very slow on the uptake. I had to watch it a number of times just to get the gist.
When I was on the boat in Alaska, one of the workers was a young Brazilian guy. The stories…
How on earth did you overlook this? Best butts in the MLB playoffs. 😁
https://betches.com/best-baseball-butts-mlb-playoffs-2017/
“Italy Woman’s Pole Vault”. Italian Athletics maybe on BrazilianTVHD?
I remember that poem on The Congo when I was a school kid in the deep South, years before forced integration. I think I first heard it in the 2nd or 3rd grade and it is just as true today as it was then but so few today realize it exists and understands the topic. And what’s astonishing is that the black is far more prevalent and violent than he’s ever been in history and he’s growing worse.
A pretty young woman’s butt, like that pictured, is a thing of true and stunning beauty. Doesn’t matter quite so much when we’re banging on the door of 70 with a big hammer but my memory hasn’t faded and I still appreciate them and I do remember that I had a fine time with ’em when I was younger.
I’ll take a stab at the one liner, JWM (actually a two liner)
Why is women’s weightlifting in the Olympics but not men’s powerlifting ? After all, hundreds of millions of men have done a bench press; how many people have ever done a woman’s snatc- (Don’t answer that!)
Well, whatever that number is, it’s probably equal to the the number who have done the woman’s pole vault