You Know What I Hate?

At first I wasn’t going to give this issue the time of day; when I saw it posted on twitter, it made me angry. Fighting my instinct to start throwing backhanded insults on a whim, I decided to hold my tongue and reflect. Then something funny happened, I saw the irony of the situation. While I was planning a scathing rebuttal, I realized how childish the post was. So rather than throw a medium sized tantrum, I have decided to point out the irony of the situation and the stupidity of the person who posted it.

I will not name names because despite this person’s idiocy I believe everyone is entitled to their own privacy. Those who get the gist of it will understand and to those that don’t well you can just write it off as an inside funny. To summarize the video in question: “Fuck those who unfollow…..dude.” When did twitter fall under totalitarian rule? Well I exercise my right to unfollow pretentious artistic bullshit, without reason anytime I please……dude.

Furthermore I think it is highly inappropriate to post a video telling people to “fuck off” when they unfollow you. Especially when you compare the number of those who follow said account to those said account follows. Basically what I took away from author of this video: Fuck the free thinkers, those who have differing opinions and who don’t subscribe to my BS. To make my point perfectly clear I must post a video about it, even though I elicit enough attention without stirring the waves and causing drama. (BTW telling unfollowers to “fuck off” will not raise the rallying flags and inspire them to follow in future.)

Let me point out that most of the “I love this post” comments were garnered by 18 year old's.I think those in the public eye have an obligation because of their position to act in a respectful manner. Earning praise for being a Good Samaritan and helping those less fortunate, not because everyone else is watching but because down to the core they are a good person. 

The opposite of that would be posting video’s telling people to fuck off. To the author of the video: Really, that’s great that you don’t care what people think; I can only assume then that you will not care that I posted my thoughts, which as you can see are organized/better formed. I did not have to resort to a guttural “fuck you,” although I believe that message was delivered by me in much more articulate manner.  

Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Movie of the Day 11/06/2013

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Mirror by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful ‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered.

Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.

It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long

I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.

Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,

Searching my reaches for what she really is.

Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.

I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.

She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.

I am important to her. She comes and goes.

Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.

In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Picture of the Day

Frozen Light on a Snowy Weekend by Paulo Brandao 

Movie of the Day

Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Book 11/05/2013

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A Song For St. Cecilia's Day, At Oxford by Joseph Addison 

I. 
Cecilia, whose exalted hymns 
With joy and wonder fill the blest, 
In choirs of warbling seraphims 
Known and distinguish'd fom the rest; 
Attend, harmonious saint, and see 
Thy vocal sons of harmony; 
Attend, harmonious saint, and hear our prayers; 
Enliven all our earthly airs, 
and, as thou sing'st thy God, teach us to sing of thee: 
Tune every string and every tongue, 
Be thou the Muse and subject of our song. 

II. 
Let all Cecilia's praise proclaim, 
Enploy the echo in her name. 
Hark how the flutes and trumpets raise, 
At bright Cecilia's name, their lays; 
The organ labours in her praise. 
Cecilia's name does all our numbers grace, 
From every voice the tuneful accents fly, 
In soaring trebles now it rises high, 
And now it sinks, and dwells upon the base. 
Cecilia's name through all the notes we sing, 
The work of every skilful tongue 
The sound of every trembling string, 
The sound and triumph of our song. 

III. 
For ever consecrate the day, 
To music and Cecilia; 
Music, the greatest good that mortals know, 
And all of heaven we have below. 
Music can noble hints impart, 
Engender fury, kindle love; 
With unsuspected eloquence can move, 
And manage all the man with secret art. 
When Orpheus strikes the trembling lyre 
The streams stand still, the stones admire; 
The listening savages advance, 
The world and lamb around him trip 
The bears in aukward measures leap, 
And tigers mingle in the dance 
The moving woods attended as he played 
And Rhodope was left without a shade. 

IV. 
Music religious heats inspires, 
It wakes the soul, and lifts it high, 
And wings it with sublime desires, 
And fits it to bespeak the Deity. 
Th' Almighty listens to a tuneful tongue, 
And seems well-pleas'd and courted with a song. 
Soft moving sounds and heavenly airs 
Give forece to every word, and recommend our prayers 
When time itself shall be no more, 
And all things in confusion hurl'd, 
Music shall then exert its power, 
And sound survive the ruins of the world: 
Then saints and angels shall agree 
In one eternal jubilee: 
All heaven shall echo with their hymns divine, 
And God himself with pleasure see 
The whole creation in a chorus join. 

C H O R U S. 
Consecrate the place and day, 
To music and Cecilia Let no rough winds approach, nor dare 
Invade the hallow'd bounds, 
Nor rudely shake the tuneful air, 
Nor spoil the fleeting sounds. 
Nor mournful sigh nor groan be heard, 
But gladness dwell on every tongue; 
Whilst all, with voice and strings prepar'd, 
Keep u; the loud harmonious song. 
And imitate the blest above, 
In joy, and harmony, and love.

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Book of the Day

Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Movie of the Day 11/04/2013

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The Owl and the Pussy Cat by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat,

They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!

How charmingly sweet you sing!

O let us be married! too long we have tarried:

But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land where the Bong-tree grows

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

With a ring at the end of his nose,

His nose,

His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon,

The moon,

The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

Picture of the Day

Grist Mill, Jerico, Vermont | Mike's Photoblog

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Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Book of the Day 11/03/2013

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Quote of the Day

"Every day you're not dead in the ground, when you wake up in the morning, you're gonna have to make some decisions. Got to ask yourself this question: "Am I gonna believe all them bad things them fools say about me today?" You hear me today? "Am I gonna believe all them bad things them fools say about me today? You hear me today?" All right? As for your mama, she didn't pick her life. It picked her. But you, you're gonna do something big with yours. You wait and see."

     -The Help-    

Poem of the Day

November by Walter de la Mare

There is wind where the rose was, 
Cold rain where sweet grass was, 
And clouds like sheep 
Stream o'er the steep 
Grey skies where the lark was. 

Nought warm where your hand was, 
Nought gold where your hair was, 
But phantom, forlorn, 
Beneath the thorn, 
Your ghost where your face was. 

Cold wind where your voice was, 
Tears, tears where my heart was, 
And ever with me, 
Child, ever with me, Silence where hope was. 

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Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Movie of the Day 11/02/2013

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Flapper by D.H. Lawrence 

LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart
As a field-bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.
Mischief has come in her dawning eyes,	5
And a glint of coloured iris brings
Such as lies along the folded wings
Of the bee before he flies.
Who, with a ruffling, careful breath,
Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite?	10
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight
In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth?
Love makes the burden of her voice.
The hum of his heavy, staggering wings
Sets quivering with wisdom the common things	15
That she says, and her words rejoice.

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Song/Quote/Poem/Picture/Book of the Day 11/01/2013

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Mnemosyne by Trumbull Stickney 

It’s autumn in the country I remember.

How warm a wind blew here about the ways!
And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber
During the long sun-sweetened summer-days.

It’s cold abroad the country I remember.

The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain
At midday with a wing aslant and limber;
And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain.

It’s empty down the country I remember.

I had a sister lovely in my sight:
Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre;
We sang together in the woods at night.

It’s lonely in the country I remember.

The babble of our children fills my ears,
And on our hearth I stare the perished ember
To flames that show all starry thro’ my tears.

It’s dark about the country I remember.

There are the mountains where I lived. The path
Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber,
The stumps are twisted by the tempests’ wrath.

But that I knew these places are my own,
I’d ask how came such wretchedness to cumber
The earth, and I to people it alone.

It rains across the country I remember.

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