Don’t make me do it. Please! I’m beggin’ you!.
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
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That’s when I just close the browser tab and go elsewhere.
I used to type in blow-us@fuck-you.com but any more I just close the tab.
It’s an enigma to me why businesses are chasing customers away.
At least 60% of the internet is now worthless and half the remainder is a repeat of the rest.
Try to do any serious research, unless you have a lightspeed connection you will waste a lot of time because of all the bullshit you have to wade through.
It’s a me, Me, ME! world now.
Same with emails, phonecalls, texts, streaming, satellites, and OTA TV, etc.
Tech everything now is mostly bullshit.
Been going downhill since around 2008.
I saw it when it began but I probably won’t see it end, for the end for me could be any day now, depending on my mood. One of these days I’ll just unplug and step off.
I miss the 2003 era internet when 1) most sites were mostly static html with very little active content to slow it down and 2) only motivated creative people dared to self publish content, as opposed to now when every yahoo under the sun has a Facebook or Twitter account – turns out, barriers to entry can be a good thing sometimes.
Websites for mainstream news (newspapers, network TV affiliates, etc.) are impossible to navigate nowadays.
I still stick to blogs.
I’ve missed you. Sorry I’ve been gone for so long.
Hope you’re well, and life is good for you, Joan. Seeing your nic is kind of a blast from the past.