“FOR OUR MATCHLESS FRIENDS”
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
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.
Gerard Van der Leun
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
Comments on this entry are closed.
An awful lot of work to get 12″ off the ground.
Matches have a crappy energy-density.
Seven hundred fifty hours of meticulous toil to produce that prodigiously sulphurous squib. Can’t wait to see further consequences of the cabin fever & boredom induced by the Chinese Virus shelter-in-place/stay-at-home regime.
Matchless. Ha ha.
Yeah, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Walmart’s best price on wooden matches is $10.50 (free shipping) for 1000, so 1,000,000 would be about $10,500.00 right?
He gets a 10 for execution but a rather disappointing 2 or maybe 3 for performance.
Kinda’ underwhelming.
He could have made a hell of a pipe bomb with all that, and it would have made a big ass BOOM. Maybe even destroyed something useless.
JWM
The video of cats starting a falling dominoes chain reaction was a lot more entertaining, IMHO, and a lot less likely to bring the local firefighters to show up on your doorstep.
First thought was where did he get the black-headed matches?
My primitive cave stocks what is available:red-headed ones.
Bit of research reveals match heads come in the whole crayon box of colors.
Who knew??
Grandparents,probably.
A+ to MatchGuy for effort,and good video. Those prodigious sulphurous fumes made my eyes & nose water…
Ghost,
He probably ordered them in bulk for a better price. Shipped direct from Wuhan.
E for effort… F for results. Proving once again that some people just have way too much time on their hands.
The patience of Renfield, only with matches.
Spectacular, but it sure didn’t get far. Hope he was satisfied, but my reaction was “is that all?”
Back in high school, I used matchstick heads to power CO2 cartridge rockets; they’d go like the blazes for a half mile or so. They worked so well that soon I was gifted by two visitors: one from the Police Dept. and the other from the Fire Dept. For some reason they wanted to talk to my parents!
Their timing wasn’t too good though- they arrived just as the Boy Scouts Council was meeting in my living room. For a while there I was the talk of the town!